When It Changes
by restive nature
Summary: Supernatural Dark Angel xover. Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you. Features the Winchester's and Max.
1. Blind Curve

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident as the story progresses, but much further down the road.)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

A/N: This story began as my work for the annual NaNoWriMo. (For those of you not familiar with the term, that's National Novel Writing Month.) The goal was 50000 words which I completed. But I felt that it wasn't fair to start another NaNo story and leave people hanging while I tried to finish other stories. But I also promised that I would put this story up by Christmas, no matter where I was in it. There's no real purpose in this story, except that I wanted to write it for my own enjoyment. But I hope other people will enjoy reading it as well.

A/N2: I also have to say that unfortunately, I only got to see about the last seven episodes of the first Season of Supernatural. I was hoping to get it for my birthday (no such luck) and when I went to get it myself, the stores were sold out. (So here's hoping for Christmas!) Anyhow, if I have missed anything or contradicted something stated in canon, then I apologize and will try to fix it down the road when I can.

When It Changes

Chapter One

Blind Curve

"Don't fall asleep now son," John Winchester spoke with a slight tone of amusement. He'd just glanced in the rearview mirror of his '67 Chevy Impala, blacker than the night they drove through, to see his thirteen year old son, Sammy, asleep in the back seat. A quick glance at his elder son, Dean, told him that his warning was just in time. Dean's eyes were beginning to droop, but the moment his father's voice reached him through the fogy haze in that moment of dropping off, he'd snapped upright again.

"Yes sir," Dean rasped out. He stared out the windshield from his position riding shotgun. John stared out at the road as well, but he knew his son well enough to know that he'd be rubbing at those tired eyes surreptitiously, so that his father wouldn't notice.

At seventeen, Dean was quite the man. He was leaving most vestiges of childhood, if one could call it that, rapidly behind him. The last major carry over seemed to be the typical teenage boy's need for sixteen hours of sleep a day. And the appetite. But that would never change, John knew. In their line of work, their bodies always needed fuel. Dean cleared his throat and John smiled. He knew he should let Dean sleep if he needed it, the kid was finally getting over a cold. Another thing that Dean would never let bog him down. Not that Sam or John did either. But that noise was sort of welcome in the noisy type of silence that one experienced when driving. Not quite silence, mostly background filler. The urge to talk to his son was compelling.

"I need you to help me stay awake," John continued. He removed one hand from the steering wheel to rub at his right eye. He was getting older and finally starting to feel it. From the occasional knee joint pain when he woke in the morning, to aching shoulders in the evening. It got worse during cold weather, which he didn't have to worry about now, seeing how it was the end of May. But they were all little signs telling him that he couldn't slow things down.

"It's important to have good eyes watching the road," John rambled on. He didn't know why he was talking on like this. He rarely rambled. Didn't see the need in it. And he knew that Dean knew all this. Dean had been driving himself for a few years and John had drilled these things into his head before he'd allow him to take the wheel. "You never know when conditions will change. You might see something I don't. And when it changes, you've got to be ready to roll with it." And Lord, that was true. In more than just driving too it seemed. Dean had an uncanny knack of being someone who could see straight through a situation to the heart of the matter, yet at the same time, be completely oblivious to the nuances surrounding that heart. But it didn't worry John. His kid was a survivor.

As he mused on this, he noticed a sign, marking a curve ahead. He slowed a little, his years of driving experience telling him to go into the blind curve slowly and then accelerate into the curve to hold the road. But his own words came back to bite him on the ass when Dean called attention to that change tersely.

"Deer!" he half-shouted, tensing up and leaning forward. John saw it as well, the doe standing in the ditch, jumping into the road precisely as he neared. Knowing better than to slam on his brakes, he swerved to the left as his foot left the accelerator and came to down swiftly to apply pressure to his brakes. He kept it steady and they swerved around the deer, which stood stock still in the middle of the lane, probably with its heart pounding in its overly large ears.

John turned to smile at Dean, the coincidence so ironic but Dean's eyes were wide and panicked as he gestured to the road, yelling "Dad! Look out!"

The movements were automatic and so swift that John couldn't calculate how quickly it happened. He was slamming on the brakes this time, trying to avoid whatever Dean had seen. But his reaction times weren't fast enough now to avoid the next thing to come out of nowhere. He could only thank God that he'd slowed down some to avoid the deer. But it wasn't enough when he heard the dull thump of his beloved car meeting a solid something.

As the car came to a halt, John spun around to check on Sam, who was groggy but awake. The boy kept quiet, waiting for his father or brother to tell him what had happened. He checked Dean next, seeing that he was shaking.

"I think we hit someone," Dean whispered in a strangled voice. John mentally cursed as he yanked his seatbelt off.

"Stay in the car," he warned. In their line of work, it was a valid precaution. It was possible that a person could have been roaming the backwoods road, but at eleven at night, it was more likely an animal. But if the animal was hurt, it could react unpredictably. But Dean had said someone, not something and his eyes didn't usually fail him. All John could do was look and see.

He left his door open, in case he needed to get into the protection of the car quickly. As he moved to the front, the headlights dimmed and he noticed Dean had unbuckled as well and did that so his father wouldn't be blinded. But as he looked to the ground, about three feet in front of the car was a huddled form, lying in the gray expanse of old asphalt. This time John didn't bother to vent his frustration under his breath.

"Damn it! Dean, call an ambulance!" he called back to his son. He dropped to one knee beside the still form, feeling for a pulse. He breathed an amazing sigh of relief as he found it, steady and strong. He knew better than to move an accident victim and he looked over the body of what appeared to be a child. The kid was wearing jeans that were too big for his frame, a white t-shirt under a dismal gray zip up jacket and shoddy, cheap sneakers that looked about ready to fall apart.

"Dad, I can't get service out here," Dean complained as he got out of the car. He had the cell phone gripped in his right hand. He tried again but the 'no service' indicator was lit up, illuminating his face green in the darkness. He snapped the phone shut, knowing it was futile to continue trying. "Is it bad?"

"The kid's unconscious, but the pulse is strong," John rapped out quickly. "I don't see any bleeding or wounds."

"Think it's safe to move him?" Dean asked, crouching beside his father and taking a good look at the kid they'd hit. He too knew the dangers.

"We're going to have to take the chance," John decided. "We need to get him to a hospital." Dean nodded and they moved to carefully straighten the child out and child it was indeed. He looked to be about ten or eleven years old, with dark hair, almost black. It was shaggy all over, like no one had bothered to cut it at all for months on end. The face was fragile and pale, but John figured that must be due to the accident. He did a cursory check around the kids head and neck but could feel nothing obvious. "Sammy," he called out, knowing that his youngest would be waiting. "Get in the front seat." The immediate movement from the car told him that Sam was obeying. "Leave your blanket there." He turned to his eldest. "Go get in the back seat. I'll slide him in to you. Try and keep his head as still as possible. I know it'll be tough, but do your best."

Dean ran around to the backseat and slid into the rear passenger's side seat. He knew his father would want to be able to keep an eye on them. He threw Sam's woolly blanket to his feet, ready to grab to cover the kid up. They all had had enough first aid training to know that shock was a concern. All they could do was keep the kid warm with his feet up and find the first available medical assistance. John carefully passed the boy in to Dean, who was sitting sideways in the seat. He had decided that balancing the kids head in his lap would prove to be too bumpy. They settled him in and Dean pulled up Sam's blanket over the kid. John nodded and shut the door, regaining his seat quickly. He checked the road and pulled away, anxious to get this kid taken care of.

It was Sammy who first voiced the thought that was nagging at all of them. "How come a little kid was out on the road in the middle of the night?" he asked quietly, also turned sideways in his seat so that he could watch over their newest occupant. John thought about telling him to turn around, but he knew he wouldn't need a second set of eyes. Everything was in sharp focus and there was no way he'd fall asleep at the wheel.

"I don't know kiddo," he answered quietly, "But it can't have been for anything good."

"Do you think he ran away from home?" Sam asked, his voice a mixture of fear and worry. Neither Dean nor John answered that. It was the most likely probability. John wondered for a moment if he should keep his eyes open for a turn off or driveway. But he dismissed that idea almost as swiftly as it came. If the kid was running from a bad situation then John did not want to take him right back into it. They'd made a few miles down the road when moaning was heard from the back seat.

"I think he's waking up," Dean muttered and they heard rustling in the backseat. "Hey kid," he spoke soothingly. "Don't move. You've been in an accident. He's awake," he confirmed for John and Sam in the front.

"Keep him still Dean," John advised and could see Dean nodding in the rearview mirror.

"Hear that?" Dean continued trying to calm the frightened kid down. "Are you okay? Do you hurt anywhere?"

"M-my head," the kid replied slowly. At least he was doing as told, staying still. But Dean decided that it was probably pain and fear keeping him still. Shock at suddenly waking up in a car surrounded by three strangers.

"Okay," he sighed. "My name is Dean. My dad is driving us to the hospital and my brother Sam is up front with him." He paused to let that information sink in. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Max," was the soft reply. "What happened?"

"Well Max," Dean talked congenially now that the kid seemed to be trying to orient himself. "We were driving down this road and a deer jumped out in front of us. My dad swerved to avoid it, but he couldn't avoid you."

"Oh," the kid's voice sounded a little shaky. "I'm sorry sir."

John felt the sudden urge to laugh, but suppressed it, knowing that it was a late reaction to the accident. Here the kid was apologizing to them when they were the ones that had hit him. "There's no need to be sorry," he offered quietly but clearly. "Accidents happen. We just want to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine," Max assured him, but John knew better.

"You got knocked out," Sam piped up from his seat. "That means you need to go to the hospital." The change that those words brought out in Max was instantaneous. He sat bolt upright in the back seat before Dean could stop him.

"No!" Max yelled. "No hospitals!"

"Hey, it's okay," Dean soothed. "You hit your head or something, 'cause you passed out and were unconscious. We just want to get you to an emergency room so that the doctors can make sure you're okay." But the words were anything but comforting to the frightened child.

"No, I don't want to," he whimpered, huddling in the far corner of the seat. John was about to speak up, but Dean beat him to it.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," Dean cajoled, reaching for the kid. "Nobody will hurt you. We'll make sure of that." Dean wondered if the kid had some massive medical community type phobia, or if the kid was afraid a doctor would call his parents.

"No!" the kid yelled again and the next thing John heard was Dean swearing. There was a thump and a sudden rush of air. John once again applied his foot harshly to the brakes, even as he swung his head around to see his eldest son restraining Max. He pulled to a stop and was amazed to see the driver's side rear door hanging open and Dean with his arms wrapped around Max's waist as the boy struggled to get free.

"Are you stupid?" Sam's shocked voice choked out. "You could have killed yourself!"

"Sammy, quiet," John barked, though he felt like pointing out the painfully obvious truth to the kid as well. He stared at Max struggling in Dean's arms. "Dean let him go." The surprise at those words was evident in Dean's face, but he obeyed his father and eased up from where he was holding Max. The kid eyed Dean angrily, and then turned his suspicion on John.

"I won't go," he reiterated stubbornly.

"I can see that," he stated calmly. Max remained on the edge of flight. "Well, we'll give you a ride to town. If you decide to trust us, then we'll take care of you. If you still don't want to go, then once we get to town, you can go your own way. Okay?" John could feel all three of the children staring at him with suspicion, his own two with bewilderment as well. But he focused on Max, who finally broke and nodded slowly. "Okay, shut your door and we'll get going." Max did as he was bid, but huddled in his newly appointed corner.

They'd driven a few more miles before Dean broke the silence. He coughed nervously then smiled at the kid. "I'm uh, sorry about grabbing you back there. I just kind of didn't want to see you go splat."

"I didn't really want to go splat," Max smirked.

"Then you must reeee-allly hate hospitals," Sam chuckled. Max nodded.

"Don't blame you," Dean groaned. "They're not the greatest place in the world, what with the noise and the smell and all the sick people walking around…" his voice faded as he noticed Max getting paler by the moment. He looked distracted, like he was lost in his own memories. "But you know, there are worse places too," Dean muttered hastily. It wasn't his imagination that the kid flinched a little. He glanced up and quickly met his father's eyes in the rearview mirror. John nodded, each of their concerns very obvious to the other. "So Max," Dean hurried to change the subject, but couldn't think of anything other than the obvious questions. Such as, why he was out on the road at eleven at night? What was his last name? Who the hell gave him the shaggy dog haircut?

"Where are you guys going?" Max asked before Dean could get anymore words out.

"Oh, we're heading out to see an old friend of my dad's," Sam volunteered, even as he ignored the warning look that both Dean and John had in their faces.

"Oh," was Max's neutral reply.

"Were you heading anywhere specific?" Dean asked quietly. All three Winchester's waited for the answer.

Max shrugged, not sure what to say. "Just to town," he finally decided on. "I don't know after that."

"Okay," John muttered, and then a thought occurred to him. "Well, do you know about how far it is to town? We haven't been through this part of the state before." This was true. He waited for an answer and noticed from his driver's side window that Max was peering out into the night.

"Just after mile marker twenty-three, you hit town," Max supplied. There was another pause and John noticed a mile marker coming up. "So about another five miles," Max finished. John whistled under his breath.

"You've got good eyes," Sam complimented as he peered out the window as well. The three Winchester's were just able to read the small sign now.

"Night vision," Max replied with a small grin. The other occupants laughed.

"Maybe I should have you sitting up here in front with me," John suggested.

"Hey!" Dean protested immediately. "I saw that deer and Max. I'd say my eyes aren't too bad."

"That's true," John conceded. "But a kid coming complete with night vision is just too cool to pass up."

Dean held his indignant pose a moment longer before giving in. "Yeah it is," he agreed enthusiastically.

"So wait," Sammy turned in his seat again to look at Max. "If you've got night vision, how come you didn't see us coming?"

"I did," Max snorted. "But you were in the lane I was walking on, so I thought I better move to the other side."

"And of course, I'd just swerved to avoid that deer that jumped out at us and was correcting myself by getting back into the proper lane." He sighed. "Just dumb luck conspiring against us."

"Seems to be the story of our lives," Dean sighed as well. No one else seemed inclined to say anything else on the subject. The last stretch of miles into town was accomplished silently.

Dean however kept taking sneaking glances at Max. The kid did seem to be okay, as he'd asserted, but Dean was worried that the kid might suddenly collapse. A car accident was no laughing matter and the kid had no idea what might be in store for him if he had a head injury. Which was why he was taken aback as they pulled into town and his dad drove right past the sign that indicated to turn for the hospital.

"Uh… Dad?" he coughed slightly to get his father's attention. John glanced up into the rearview mirror again and Dean jerked his head to the side, indicating that John should have turned.

"I know son," he spoke calmly, but continued driving on as he was. "Trust me."

No one knew what to think of this statement. But John soon found what he was actually looking for when he pulled off the main street they'd been driving on and pulled into a mid-size looking motel parking lot. John parked near the check in suite and turned off the car.

"Wait here," he instructed tersely. He got out of the car and listened for a moment. He could hear faint sounds emanating from the building and he hoped that someone was awake. Most times, if they couldn't get a motel room in a small town like this, they'd just sleep in the car. But he didn't think that was such a great idea tonight.

He knocked at the door, even though there was an invitation to enter. He himself always liked a little notice that someone was coming to his door. Once he heard shuffling feet moving towards the door, then he allowed himself to open it. He was met by an older lady, looking ready for bed. She was wearing a long tartan dressing gown, with her feet in backless slippers. She looked to be in her mid to late sixties, with a full head of silvery white hair.

"Good evening ma'am," he began with a charming smile. Politeness was always good in these situations, though John practiced it as a rule, not just to get something.

"Hello," the woman smiled back, slightly cautious. "Did you want a room?"

"Yes please," he nodded. "Two double beds if you have any. I was going to drive through the night, but," and here he gestured out the window, "the kids were just too tired to go on."

The woman glanced out the unshaded window to see the three huddled forms in the Impala. Her face brightened at once. "Of course," she nodded, moving to the counter set at the front of the room. She moved behind it and pulled a slip of paper from a cubby hold. She handed it to John along with a pen. He filled in the required information quickly, using one of his many aliases that he'd developed over the years. Ian Macnair signed his name with a flourish, laid the pen on top of the paper and pushed it back towards the elderly woman. The woman glanced cursorily over the sheet and pulled out a key attached to a small plastic key ring.

"We've only got a few rooms with two doubles, but they're all open," she explained. "Number fourteen should suit you just fine." John took the key and agreed with her. "Have a good night Mr. Macnair."

"You too ma'am."

He got in the car again and started her up, wincing at the sudden loud noise in the quiet neighborhood. But it wouldn't last long, since he only had to pull around the corner to get to their room. He shut the car off again and Sam and Dean quickly got out to remove their overnight bags from the trunk. Max sat mutely in the back seat, his eyes again filled with suspicion. He watched as John opened the door and Dean and Sam rushed the room. John turned back to him.

"You coming?" he demanded, gesturing to the still open door. Max slowly got out of the car and carefully shut the door. He moved to stand beside John and looked into the room. Dean was moving the bags onto a wide dresser, while Sammy bounced up and down on the far bed. "It's warm and dry and you'll sleep safe."

"Okay," Max conceded and he walked through the door. John followed and shut it against the night air.

"Sammy, settle down," his voice was soft but his tone wasn't. "Quit acting like this is the first time you've been in a motel. Dean don't worry about the bags, we'll only be here one night."

"Yes sir!" their combined voices rang out and Max noticed that they did as their father bid them immediately.

"So?" Dean stared at his father and Max then shoved his hands in his pocket.

"So what?" John demanded, although he was pretty sure he knew what Dean was going to say.

"Are we going to go to the hospital?" he threw out bluntly, staring at Max. John turned to look at the child for a long moment.

"I think I'd like to talk to Max in private first," he asserted. "If that's okay with you?" The last was directed at Max. The kid raised one eyebrow, as if asking where John was thinking he'd find privacy. John understood and gestured to the bathroom. Max chewed at his lower lip. "No funny business," John assured him. "Just talk." Finally Max nodded and moved into the bathroom. John followed, but as he turned to shut the door, he gave the boys a pointed look. They knew what to do.

They had just finished creating a protective barrier made of salt around the door and two windows when John came out of the bathroom again. He shut the door behind him, his eyes heavy and somewhat saddened.

"How is he?" Sam asked before Dean had the chance. The elder Winchester boy just put his supplies away as he waited for his father to answer.

"Well," John spoke slowly, a glint of amusement creeping in to temper the sadness. "It turns out that our he, is actually a she."


	2. Implications Unsaid

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Ange lis the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident as the story progresses, but much further down the road.)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Two

Implications Unsaid

John stood in the tiny bathroom, staring at the kid they'd picked up. He could hear Dean and Sam moving quietly about the outer room, preparing it before they went to sleep. Of course, their preparations went farther than changing into pajamas, brushing their teeth and saying their prayers. Although prayers sometimes weighed heavily in their nightly rituals before bed. And not the lay me down type either.

Max sat expectantly on the edge of the toilet seat. The jacket he wore was slipping down one arm. Another item of clothing too big for his thin frame. Max tugged the sleeve back from his wrist and John could see how truly thin the young man was. Trying not to appear threatening, he crouched on the cold tile floor, one knee almost touching said floor, while his elbow rested on his upper knee. He knew though that there was no way he could ease answers out of the child, so he decided on the direct approach.

"Max," he began and waited until he looked John straight in the eyes. "Where are your parents?"

"I don't have any," Max replied promptly and without rancor. John decided it must be the truth almost by the ease with which Max was able to say it.

"What about foster parents?" was the next inquiry. That hit the mark as Max quickly looked away. And as he did, John saw once again the very thing that had compelled him to take Max under their collective wings. A faded bruise mark on Max's left temple. "Is that where you got that bruise from?" he demanded brusquely. There were few things that John absolutely despised and child abuse was right up there after the demon that had killed his wife. Max still didn't answer and now wouldn't look at John. There were few options but John wanted this child to trust him. "I suppose you don't have to tell me," he conceded. "Though you'd probably feel better if you did. And you should know, with one hundred percent certainty, that I won't turn you in to the cops or the hospital or foster care, unless you want to go."

He was absolutely firm and resolute on this point. He'd been on the bad end of the Department of Children and Families so called Child Protection Services enough times to know how half the time they were barking up the wrong tree. Granted, they had a great ideal, to save children that were truly abused or neglected. John couldn't ignore that that sort of thing went on. But when he, a person that had never hurt the boys and rarely even spoke to them with his voice raised angrily, was constantly dogged by the CPS, he tended to lose his belief in the system.

"Really?" Max voice's was hopeful, but heavily tinged with doubt. John stayed calm and nodded. He reached forward to grasp Max's chin so that he could get a good look at the fading bruise. And to see if any new bruises had formed from the accident, but Max flinched away.

"Look, son…" John smiled at the kid, trying once again to ease Max's fears, but the kid folded his arms across his chest and John could swear he was pouting.

"I'm not a boy!" Max stated almost defiantly and the smile faded from John's face as he took in that startling bit of news.

"You're not?" he questioned faintly. Max nodded, though he- no she! Kept her arms crossed even more tightly. Suddenly every nuance of Max's behavior fell into more brilliant focus. "I'm sorry," he apologized softly. "We just assumed…"

"That's okay," Max shrugged one shoulder. "It's happened before."

And John was sure that it had. But now he had some harder questions to ask. "Max, I know you've been hurt somehow. That bruise on your temple tells me so. Did someone hit you?" He asked the question as gently as he could. Max eyed him, assessing the older man, and then nodded. The next part was more difficult for John to get out. "And has anyone ever… touched you?"

Again Max glanced away and John could see an immediate tinge of blush about her pale cheeks. She knew exactly what he was talking about without him having to spell it out. In his gut he was certain about that. "Max?"

Still not looking at him, but at the uninteresting pattern of the tile on the floor, she whispered, "no."

John wanted to slide closer and make sure she wasn't going to break apart on him, but he knew she was still too spooked to allow it. "What happened?" he whispered, trying to remove all gruffness from his voice. "It's okay, you can tell me."

"You won't send me back?" she demanded once again.

"I swear to God," John promised fervently.

"I was staying with this family," she began slowly. "There was Lucy, my sister. Her mom and Dad. It was okay for a while. I tried to help around the house and be a good kid. But I guess her dad didn't want any more kids. He yelled a lot."

"And did he hit you?"

"Sometimes," she admitted, with her head hung low.

"Do you know why?" John wondered aloud. Again she shrugged one shoulder.

"Usually 'cause I talked back to him," Max told him. John could feel the anger rise in him. He tried to tamp down the feeling of rage at some idiot who would hit a child for so minor an infraction.

"How long did this go on?"

"A few months."

"So what made you run way?"

Here Max was even more hesitant to speak.

"There was a black out," she spoke softly and John had to strain to catch the words. "Lucy and I were in my room, playing a game. Her mom was at work, but her dad was home, watching a game on TV. When the lights went off, I figured that he must have forgotten to pay the power bill."

"Did he get mad?" John asked. Max nodded.

"He started yelling for me to get my butt out there and get him another beer," she informed him.

"Did you go?" he asked carefully, but Max was already shaking her head no.

"Lucy told me not to," she went on. "He'd already had five beers since lunch. She told me to hide and stay out of his way." There was a small pause and her voice was tiny. "Just like she always did."

"And then what happened?"

"I hid," she blurted it out bluntly. John waited but she wasn't forthcoming.

"And what made you run?" he demanded gently.

"I thought Lucy would get him another beer," Max admitted, unable to met John's gaze. "But he just yelled at her and told her to find me. That he was getting tired of her and it was time I started earning my keep."

Nausea rolled in John's throat as he realized exactly what the sick bastard meant and how much Max knew of the truth too, he cold see it in her face. He forced himself to calmness. Losing it now would just scare the crap out of Max and make it impossible for her to trust him and maybe trust any of the male gender. "What happened then?"

"I heard Lucy say that she'd get him another beer. And then something hit the wall. I think it was Lucy." Here was where the tears started, rolling down her cheeks, to drip onto the faded denim of her jeans.

"And that's when I ran," she admitted, sobbing brokenly. "I left my sister behind and I ran. I saved myself." Her shoulders were hunched in now and she drew her feet up to the edges of the toilet and wrapped her arms around her knees. She buried her face in her arms and continued to cry. John had no idea what to do next, aside from the primitive urge to go and pummel the living hell out of the man that had done this to two little girls. He reached out and lightly grasped one of Max's hands, surprised that she allowed it.

"It's not your fault Max," he spoke, his voice rasping heavily from the anger and the sudden wave of tenderness he didn't know that he was capable of. "You did the best you could and Lucy was trying to protect you. That was an incredibly brave thing she did. I think she should have run too, but people aren't always the smartest creatures in the world." Privately, he thought that they would have been better off running and telling the authorities, but who was he to judge? They could have ended up in a situation much worse, although it was hard to see how. As it was, there was at least one little girl to save and even if he didn't really admit it, that was the sort of thing he and his sons did, though not quite on this scale.

"But what if he…?" Max demanded quietly, her tears suddenly slowed. John could see the glint of righteous anger in her face.

"I don't know," he replied honestly. What if Lucy's father had what? Raped her? Killed her? He just didn't have answers. "I can call someone and have them check it out." But Max was already shaking her head against that suggestion. "What?"

"It wouldn't matter," she informed him. "He was friends with the sheriff. They always laughed together when somebody called and complained about him."

John fought the urge to swear. Small town politics and camaraderie he knew was a bitch to break through. "Okay, that may be true," he allowed. "But there are other people I can call that would help Lucy." But Max was still shaking her head.

"He said that if we ever told anyone, he'd kill us," she told him. "And he'd kill Lucy's mom."

John realized that the tyrant had come up with a powerful deterrent, just as all abusers did. He wondered if the mother had any idea what this monster she married had been doing to the children. Possibly she was aware of some physical abuse, maybe endured some herself. But he wasn't so sure about the sexual abuse side of the matter.

"Okay," he conceded regretfully. "I'll let it drop, for now. But if you ever want to tell me, you can. I promise, I swear that you will not have to go back there."

Max stared up at him, her eyes wide and still shining from the unshed tears glimmering in the corners of her eyes. John kept his face calm and passive, desperately hoping that she could believe in him, since there was nothing else to offer as yet. "Okay," she finally, quietly gave in. John stood, his left knee creaking a little in protest. Kneeling on a cold hard floor wasn't the greatest thing for him, but he'd endured much worse over the past decade and more.

"Okay," he sighed. "I'm going to go call the friend of a friend," he told her and Max's face changed instantly from acceptance to panic, but John gamely went on. "She's an emergency medical technician. I just want her advice about taking you to the hospital because of the car accident."

"But you said-!" Max protested.

John waved one finger at her. "I said I'd let the other matter drop. That doesn't mean I'm going to let you drop dead because you have an unidentified injury in your brain or elsewhere, is that understood?" The change of his tone, to what he knew Sammy always privately called hard-core Marine man, brought a startling change to the young girl before him. Instantly she straightened her body out, feet on the floor, hands flat on her thighs, her spine stiff and her eyes staring straight ahead.

"Yes sir!" she rapped out, not moving. John's brow furrowed in consternation and he realized that this must have been the expected behavior that had been beaten into her in some method over the past few months of living with that monster. He deliberately softened his tone." Max, she's just going to have a look at you and tell me if you need to go to the hospital. This is extremely serious. I need to know that y0ou'll do as she suggests. This is your health we're talking about."

"Yes sir," she repeated, softer and less harshly this time. John nodded.

"Okay, I'll go call her and let you know when she gets here," he decided. He wanted to reach out and brush the hair out of her eyes, like he did so often to Sammy. He wanted to see her body relax and become that of a little girl's again, but he knew he'd already pushed too far. Instead, he left her sitting on the toilet, never realizing that little Max was already contemplating how to escape from the small captivity through unconventional means.

John returned to the main room, pleased to see that Dean and Sam had been appropriately busy during their conversation. The salt lines were in place, the wards up and some little protection scapulas were ready to be donned, should they be needed this night.

"How is he?" Sammy piped up when both boys had turned to their father. John smiled inwardly, anticipating the reaction he was sure to get. He waited a pause as Dean continued to put supplies away in his bag.

"Well," he smirked. "It turns out that our he, is actually a she." Somehow though, he was doomed to disappointment.

"Oh," was Sammy's only reply and he turned back to finding a book he wanted to read.

Dean just zipped up his bag. "Easy mistake to make," he conceded. "What with the clothes, the hair and the name." He settled the bag alongside the edge of the bed, ready to be grabbed if needed. "Is she okay then?"

John glanced back at the now closed bathroom door. "Not really. Physically I think so, but I'm going to call Janie Miller." Neither boy recalled that name and looked questioningly at their dad. "Her husband's a hunter and she's an EMT." Dean nodded with understanding. With nothing else to say, John moved to the phone to make his call.


	3. Adjusting To The New Kid

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident as the story progresses, but much further down the road.)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Three

Adjusting To The New Kid

John's phone call was complete. He'd woken up Janie Miller, but after explaining who he was and why he was calling, she didn't mind. Being a small town EMT, she was often woken up in the middle of the night for work related escapades, both hers and her husband's. She told him that she was about twenty minutes out from their current location, but she'd be there swiftly. So now all they could do was wait.

John stood guard at the bathroom door, letting Max know that Sam and Dean were changing into their night clothes, which pretty much consisted of sweats and t-shirts. She calmly asserted that she'd stay in the bathroom until they were done. He'd asked her if she wanted to borrow something to sleep in, which she had. So Dean had contributed a t-shirt and Sammy had torn into the new pack of boxer shorts that he'd been insisting he had to have. John had passed along the clothes and when Max finally made an appearance; it was all Sammy could do not to laugh at the sight of her. Everything was too large and she was clutching at the waist of the boxers through the white shirt Dean had lent her.

Throwing Sam a dirty look, Dean told her she could take the other bed, the one closest to the bathroom. He and Sammy were going to take the one closer to the door. Max threw a worried glance at John and he told her that he was going to take the room's only chair. She still didn't seem convinced, but John informed her that he'd slept in chairs many times while watching over his boys sleep. So she then obligingly clambered into the huge, at least to her, double bed. She pulled up the covers to over her waist and leaned back against the rickety headboard.

"Don't worry Max," Sam piped up from his side of the bed, closer to her. Nobody ever explained it to anybody else, but if they were forced to share a bed, Dean always put himself between Sam and the door. It was just an accepted routine of their little family. And no one bothered to say that John always put himself between the boys and the door when he finally decided to settle in for the night.

"Why would I worry?" the girl quipped. Sam shrugged one shoulder.

"You looked like you were going to try and take off again," he replied bluntly. And it was true. John and Dean exchanged glances. Sometimes Sammy's penchance for honesty was a little too direct.

"Couldn't," Max replied just as easily, as if they were talking about taking a walk. She didn't look sheepish at all as she admitted, "there were bars on the bathroom window."

John laughed. "There've probably been too many people who've evaded paying for their rooms by slipping out the bathroom window." He didn't bother to tell her that on a few occasions, he, Dean and Sam had been forced to do so as well.

"But how could they?" Max demanded to know. "The dimensions of the window would barely let me through, let alone an adult."

"Oh I'm sure Sam could shimmy through," Dean defended his younger brother as he felt the thirteen year old start to pipe up again."

"He couldn't!" Max insisted. The three males turned to stare at her. "His shoulders are too wide to go through at once, but even if we went one arm at a time, his body is about two inches too big around."

"Only two inches huh?" Dean chuckled.

"Well, technically one point eight seven four five inches," Max clarified. John turned his face away. This girl was starting to remind him of Sammy and his veracity for details that no one else ever seemed to care about.

"Hear that Sammy," Dean teased, poking at his little brother. "You're getting fat. We're gonna have to start running some of that lard off your ass."

"I'm not fat!" Sam yelled. "You are. In the head." They al laughed at the lack of finesse Sam's angry reply had shown. But hey, the kid was thirteen, really prone to just speaking the first thing that popped into his head. And Dean was still young enough to keep it going, just for the fun of it.

"Fat ass," he sneered mockingly.

"Fat head!" Sam snarled back, though there was no rancor in his tone.

"Fat ass, fat ass," Dean sang out, his hand inching towards his pillow, but Sammy was ahead of him on that one. As the repeated taunt rang out, this time it was accompanied with the soft blow of the down filled pillow belonging to Sam.

"Oh it's on now little boy!" Dean responded as his own pillow flew to join the mock battle. John just sat by, watching. He didn't mind the boys playing around like this occasionally. He looked over to Max to see what her reaction was to all of this. She probably wasn't used to boys horsing around. And by looking at her closely, knew that he was right on the mark. Her eyes were darting back and forth between the boys on the next bed over and their father sitting calmly in the chair by the door.

"Not so loud," he instructed, mindful of any other patrons in the motel. The boys immediately lowered their volume. But otherwise, he was content to watch and actually evaluate their skills, so that he'd know what area they needed to work on in their defense of themselves. Max continued to watch and then smiled as Dean wrapped one arm around Sam's neck as the younger boy struggled.

"You're in for it now Sammy boy," Dean taunted as he twisted his torso to keep Sam in the right side headlock he'd managed to get on his brother. Sam continued to struggle, his feet trying to find purchase so that he could attempt to throw his older brother off him. A feat that John knew was futile since Dean outweighed the younger boy by many pounds.

"Think Sammy," he told the boy quietly. "Don't struggle and think about the situation you're in." It helped the boy to focus, but the only thing he could really think of was that Dean was showing him up deliberately in front of the newcomer. It stung his teenage pride, but even more so when Max called out instructions in a rapid staccato beat, as if this were something that had already been drilled into her head.

"Leg lock or kidney punch, or break his nose," she instructed just as easily as John had. The older man was surprised in a few ways. He hadn't expected Max to take part in this. He supposed that his easy acceptance of the boys fight had calmed her enough to realize that they weren't going to hurt each other. Of course, the fact that Dean was just hanging on to the boy and squirming away from the pathetic slaps Sam was making, probably helped.

"Good ideas Max," he complimented and smiled at her. She nodded and he realized that she was sitting up straighter again, looking proud of herself. He shifted his attention back to Sam. "So which is it going to be boy?"

"You really gonna let him break my nose?" Dean asked his father with wide eyes. "I mean, not that he could." Both boys had stilled a little more, as if waiting to see which way their father would jump.

"What would you do Max?" John asked hesitantly. He wondered why she would know these things. How she would understand self-defense, but not use it to protect herself or her sister. But there were other considerations to make as well. From what he'd heard of her foster father so far, the weight of the man's threats probably outweighed heavily Max's survival instincts. On second thought though, they probably fed right into it. Fight and be punished. Do nothing and keep your sister and foster mother from being hurt even more. He sighed and waited for the girl to answer.

In reply, Max threw the covers off. She padded softly over to the boys' bed. "Can I?" she asked them, gesturing at them with one hand while the other held up the boxers.

"Sure," Dean grinned. "Jump on up here." John watched with interest. Max moved behind the boys, keeping some distance between them.

"Sam, you've got an arm free," she instructed. "And it's pretty long, just like your legs. But Dean's got one leg pinned so it isn't much use to try and get them free right now." John could see both Sam and Dean nodding at her assessment, though Sammy was having a more difficult time of it. "So what you do is this." She took Sam's left arm and raised it above all their heads. She brought it down over Dean's shoulder and to the front of Dean's face. Dean jerked his head back as Sam's hand flailed a little. "Hang on," she told them as she moved around in front of them.

The girl moved to settle herself in front of the boys and John shifted in his chair so that he could see clearly. He had an idea of what she was going to show the boy and it was confirmed when she grabbed Sam's hand again.

"When you do this in an actual fight," she continued her instruction, "it happens much faster, so your opponent might not expect it, like Dean does."

"Help her out Dean," John told the young man and Dean sighed and obligingly moved his head closer to Sam's hand.

"Now," Max smiled, "use your thumb to get under Dean's nose and jerk his head back." Sam complied and once accomplished, found himself sitting upright as Dean sprawled backwards on the bed.

"Cool!" he breathed at he looked at his older brother holding his nose with both hands.

"God damn son of a bitch!" Dean rasped out. "That hurt!"

The other three occupants of the room were smiling. Max leaned towards Sam and gestured at him. He obliged by leaning closer to her and she whispered a few minutes in his ear. Neither John nor Dean heard what they were saying, but Dean's eyes began to flicker again. Suddenly, the older boy flew forward and had caught Sam in another headlock. Max scrambled backwards off the bed and just managed to keep her boxers from slipping off.

"Let's see you do that again squirt," Dean taunted. "I know what you got now, bitch, huh?"

John was about to admonish Dean for his language, but Max was just smiling. And so was Sam, a dangerous smile. So John held his tongue and watched the scene unfold. Sam tried a few times for the nose and Dean ducked his head back time and again. "Not so tough now Sammy boy. Don't have a girl doin' you're dirty work for ya."

And with that snide remark, Sam took the newest lesson Max had whispered to him and hooked Dean under his jaw, back towards his ear and with one thumb caught him in the nerve that ran there. The result was the same, Dean instantly let go to cup his face as he swore again, more loudly than before.

"It worked!" Sam announced proudly. He glanced down at Dean, then over at his father. "Didja see me fake him out Dad?"

"I sure did," John replied proudly. This time Sam had completely kept his head and led Dean right to where he'd wanted him. And he had recognized the usefulness of the second movement Max had taught Sam. For no matter how Dean had stretched his head to get away from Sam, he couldn't cover that weak point under his jaw. And he knew that Dean would work out ways to avoid it and punish Sammy for getting one up on him. And Sam would in turn retaliate by thinking up something else to keep Dean on his toes. He turned to Max. "That was some good advice," he complimented her and she nodded. "Where did you learn that?"

He wished he'd bitten his tongue as at once a shuttered look came over her features. She shrugged. "Just something I picked up."

"Ah," Sam sympathized at once. "Did you get bullied at school?" he asked, knowing from his own experiences what that was like. Max shrugged, but Sam didn't notice the noncommittal aspect of her demeanor. "That used to happen to me sometimes. But Dean always kicked those guys' butts." Now that the fight was over, and he had won, Sam was proudly enumerating his brother's good points to the girl.

"And now I'm thinking that you can start taking care of yourself," Dean huffed. But even as he said it, he knew it would never happen. No matter what, if he could, he'd always be there to save his little brother. It was as natural to him at this point in his life as breathing air.

John was about to intercede and tell them to settle down again, but a knock at the door forestalled him. All three children went absolutely still, but John wasn't worried. He'd heard the car pulling up seconds ago and surmised that Janie must have arrived. He pulled aside the window shade and checked out the expected guest. She was standing back from the door, her emergency medical kit hanging from one hand. She was staring straight back at John, letting him look her over. John smiled tightly at her and nodded once. She nodded back as he let the window shade drop and moved to open the door.

The woman who stepped in was about what he'd expected. She was in her mid-forties, though it was hard to tell. She had the body of a woman much younger and John imagined that she kept fit to meet the state's required endurance tests for fire, police and emergency workers of the volunteer kind. She also had the expectant air of someone used to dealing with unpredictable situations. She let the Winchester's and Max look her over until she'd had her fill and then in a calm, but clear voice, asked, "So, where's my patient?"

The three males turned to look at Max, who'd shrunk back under the sudden attention. She was okay now it seemed with the Winchester's, but not so sure with the new element introduced to her world. Even though expected, Janie was an unknown quantity. And moreover, she was a state employee in a certain capacity and Max knew that they were compelled by law in certain matters. But John had promised her that she wouldn't have to go back. And right now she wanted very much to be able to take him at his word.

Somehow, Janie was able to take this in, Max's behavior and to a degree correctly assess the problem. It wasn't hard since she'd had recalcitrant patients, namely her husband, before.

"All right kiddo," she began, speaking directly to Max and for the moment, ignoring the men. "My name is Jane Miller. I'm an EMT and John called me to check you over for any injuries. If you'll let me do that, then I can assess any damage you might have sustained in the accident and make a recommendation. What you do with that recommendation is up to you and John. Understood?"

In that moment, Max decided that she liked Jane. The woman didn't talk down to her just because of her size, age or gender. She told her straight out what she was going to do. That meant a lot to Max.

"Understood," she responded politely. But before she could allow Jane to come towards her, she had one question. "May I ask, what confidentiality laws are applicable here?"

Jane smiled, looking impressed. She could see that this kid was one smart cookie. "Everything you tell me is confidential kiddo. The only people I can share what you tell me, is the people at the hospital, if I were to transport you, or you give consent for them to contact me about my examination of you. All right?"

That satisfied Max. She nodded and then added, "call me Max."

"Okay Max," Jane amended. She gestured to the empty bed. "Take a seat up there please." She waited until Max had complied and pulled two latex gloves from her vest pocket. "Have you ever had a general exam Max?"

"Yes ma'am," she replied quickly.

"Uh Jane," John interrupted softly, thinking about Max's privacy. The woman turned to look at him. "Should we leave you alone?"

"I don't think you'll need to," Jane informed him. She did turn her attention back to Max and told her, "however, if you young lady, would like them to leave, we'll halt the exam and find some privacy."

"They're fine," Max whispered. She felt that having the men there, perhaps Janie would avoid anything overly personal and just do a cursory head and neck examination. Janie nodded and pulled out a pen light from another vest pocket.

"Okay, so tell me what happened," she instructed as she checked Max's eyes. Max told her in simple terms, without emotional attachment to the events what had occurred, with the men piping up to add their own observations. She was checking Max's blood pressure while Dean was talking about getting her into the backseat and heading into town. "And how long was she unconscious?"

"A few minutes," Dean replied promptly. "But less than ten."

"Not even that," Max admitted. She glanced sheepishly at Dean. "I kind of woke up when you laid me down on the seat."

"No you didn't," Dean denied.

Max nodded her head. "I was awake. I just didn't want you to know I was awake."

"How come?" Sam demanded yet again. Max looked straight ahead at Janie's bent head.

"Because she was in a new situation that she wasn't sure about and needed time to acclimate to the situation," John supplied for her. Max glanced up at him and then nodded to confirm his theory.

"I wouldn't have said anything but you hit a small bump and it made my head ache for a minute," Max continued. Jane looked up from the blood pressure cuff.

"Can you show me where that pain was?" she wanted to know. Max used her free hand to gesture to the spot near her temple. Jane carefully looked over the old bruise there that John had been looking at earlier. "Does it still hurt there?"

"No ma'am," Max said. Jane nodded and went back to reading the cuff numbers. In less than a minute, she was releasing the air out of the cuff and removing it from the young girl's arm. She sat back on her heels and when she spoke, included everyone in the room.

"Well Max, you seem to be just fine," she declared. "All your functions, eyesight, hearing, verbal and motor appear to be intact and not grossly affected. Or even minorly affected. Your blood pressure and pulse are well within normal range." She turned then to John. "How long has it been since the accident?"

"Almost two hours now," John offered with a glance at his watch.

"Then I doubt she has a concussion," Jane decided. "All right. Max, if you have any pain in your head or eyes, double vision, blurriness or nausea in the next twenty-four hours, you need to tell John and come to the hospital." She held up her hand as Max began to protest. "That's my recommendation," the words rang out authoritatively. "Remember what I said about my recommendation?"

"That I could do with it as I wanted," Max responded, a little contrite. Janie smiled and rose up from her knees to begin putting her equipment away. "Is that it?" Max asked dubiously. Jane pause din her packing.

"It sure is," she confirmed. "Was there something else?"

"You're not going to take my blood?" Max demanded and then ducked her head, realizing that she'd slipped and given up a little information about her past. Something that was eagerly seized upon by John and Jane, even if it had escaped the boys.

"Do you think I need to?" Jane joked. "Do you want me to?"

"No ma'am," Max stated emphatically. Jane chuckled and patted Max's knee.

"Then I won't."

As she put the last of her equipment into her pockets where they belonged, her pen light last, Jane motioned to John. He moved forward even as Max scooted back to get under the bed covers once more. "This wasn't an official visit," Jane stated clearly, not bothering to lower her voice. "That means there's no paperwork to worry about." John nodded. "Normally, after an accident, I would be obliged to transport the victim whether they were hurt or not. But since she seems to be okay and so much time has elapsed, it's my opinion that she'll be just fine."

"Do we have to sign one of those waivers or something?" John asked, understanding Janie's point. Jane shook her head no.

"No visit, no paperwork," she reiterated. "Just some advice for all of you. If she gets sick, go to the hospital. And you young lady," she turned to Max. "Thank you for being a good patient." Max smiled at the unexpected words issued to her.

"Thank you too," she whispered softly. She couldn't say what exactly she was thanking the woman for, but Janie seemed to understand. She hefted her bag and headed for the door.

"Night all!" she called as she left. There was a chorus of good-byes from all around until John had the door firmly shut, locked and bolted. They heard the sudden roar of Janie's car and listened to it as it backed away and then pulled off into the night.

"And now," John sighed, looking over the three kids, "it's time to go to sleep." And without argument, all three of them nestled down in their respective beds. John took a seat in the chair he had occupied before, it being the only chair in the room and watched over the children as he puzzled over what to do with this newest intrusion into his life.


	4. Delicacy

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident as the story progresses, but much further down the road.)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Four

Delicacy

Max woke slowly, for the first time in many days. Since she'd joined her former household, she had usually been awakened by fights between the two adults. Sometimes by her foster father shouting at her to get her lazy ass out of bed. And after she'd run away from that household, she hadn't allowed herself the luxury of sleep. So it was no surprise to her that she'd slept in later than she normally did.

It took her mere seconds to orient herself to the room. John was moving around on the far side of the boy's bed. Someone was in the bathroom, using the shower, though just as she noticed that, the water stopped. And someone was still occupying the bed next to her. She thought it was Sam, but he might have gotten up and Dean might have rolled over. But when she squinted, her eyes open, she confirmed it was Sam, snoring almost in her ear. She smiled at the image of Sam hanging almost completely out of the bed. About all that was left on the bed were his head, torso and one arm. The rest had slid out of the bed to rest on the floor. She wondered if he'd woken up at all. She remembered that Zane never did when he flopped around in his sleep.

A lump settled in her throat as she thought about the siblings she was now separated from. She had no idea if she'd ever find them again, though she meant to try with everything in her, right down to her last breath. She heard John move again and schooled her face to calmness. She didn't want John to ask questions that she couldn't answer.

"Hey, you're awake," it was a statement and not a question. Max looked up at him and nodded. He'd changed the clothes he'd worn from the evening before, though his hair was unkempt and damp and it appeared that he wasn't enamored with shaving. John looked towards Sam and shook his head. "Dean's already up and in the shower. Usually I wake Sammy up when he's done. That way there's no fighting over the bathroom."

"Yes sir," Max replied quietly. That seemed to her like an equitable division of bathroom time. You snooze, you lose, was an adage that she'd heard that seemed very appropriate to the situation at hand.

"But since you woke up first, then you get the next chance," John informed her. "I'll tell Dean you're awake so he'll hurry. He usually dawdles a little just to tick his brother off," he admitted. Max smiled again, remembering how her sisters Tinga and Jace would do the same thing to her and her other sisters. As good as his word, John moved off to rap once at the closed bathroom door. "Dean, Max needs the bathroom."

"Yes sir," the words came at once, though muffled through the closed door. Max only had to wait moments before Dean emerged, a towel loose over his head, his clothes bag in his hand. Max could see that Dean must have dressed while he was still slightly damp, since his shirt clung to his back. But she appreciated his gesture so that she could have the facility. She smiled at him while he took a seat on the end of the bed. Dean smiled back and then began to quickly dry his hair. "There are still some clean towels in there," Dean informed her. "Use as many as you want," he joked with a quick glance at the still sleeping Sam. "Won't hurt my feelings a bit."

"Okay," Max grinned. It felt good to her to be part of a close knit group again, even if she was just on the edges of it. She understood to a degree the teasing camaraderie the men had, since she'd seen glimpses of it in her own unit.

"Now now kids," John chuckled. Max threw a glance at him and he was shaking his head resignedly. "You can't be mean to Sam all the time," he chided gently. Max just continued grinning as she threw back the covers and took a moment to assure that her boxers wouldn't desert her.

"Just every other minute," Dean decided and Max actually laughed. Life was looking up for her this morning. She gathered up the clothes that she wore the day before, the only set she had and marched into the bathroom. She dumped the clothes on the back of the toilet and began preparing for the day.

It only took her ten minutes to get through her ablutions. She still had that trained into her. She hadn't yet discovered the joys of taking one's time and relaxing in the shower. At the moment, Max didn't care. Warm or cold, either way it didn't bother her. A quick finger combing of her hair, clothes on straight and she was good to go. She exited the bathroom, borrowed sleeping wear in her hands, to see Sammy nearly dancing just outside the door.

"About time," he growled as he shot past her into the room and slammed the door shut behind him. John rolled his eyes. Sammy never learned. But he was just going to have to learn to get up earlier than others to avoid that morning situation.

"So, did you use up all the towels?" Dean asked as Max handed the shirt and boxers to him. He threw them in his bag and zipped it up.

"No," she replied, and then grinned wickedly. Dean glanced at her beaming face and a smile curved up his own lips.

"What did you do?" he asked in a low growly way. But Max didn't have to answer, since Sam did it for her.

"Ahhh! Where's all the stupid toilet paper?" Max and Dean shared convulsions of laughter as John waited for them to settle down so he could ask Max where she put it. But he needn't have bothered. "Never mind!" came Sam's next shout. And then, "oh gross! It's all wet!" That sent Dean into another fit of laughter. He reached out and gave Max's hair a gentle tug.

"I think I'm gonna like you kid," he offered. Max just sat calmly on the bed.

"Cool," she shrugged. And then impishly, "I like me too."

"All right," John interrupted before horseplay could begin again. "I'm going to go pay the bill. Try and have yourselves ready by the time I get back." He raised his voice slightly. "Did you hear what I said Sam?"

"But I was going to shower Dad," Sam called back.

"Too bad," John replied, unsympathetically. "If you can keep it short you might be able to, but I'll be back here, expecting to leave in no more than ten minutes."

"Yes sir!"

"Please Dad," Dean whined mockingly, glancing at Max. "Let him shower. That just punishes us when he doesn't."

"Ha ha Dean!" Sam growled. "I heard that."

John just shook his head and left, the zingers still flying between his boys and Max chuckling every so often. He shut the door behind him, but didn't automatically make for the check-in suite as he planned.

There were days that he wondered, and this was certainly one of them, what it would have been like to have a female member of the family. Most of the time, he'd wondered about how different things would be if Mary were still alive. But usually he was able to shake himself out of that stupor. She had died and there was no changing that. But every few years, he'd also wondered what it would have been like to have that little girl that Mary had wanted. Not that she hadn't adored the boys. But she and John had always hoped for a girl to complete things. And as he did with thoughts and wishes of Mary, he pushed this one out of his head too. Max wasn't his little girl. And there was no reason to try and make it seem that way. He'd already done a horrible thing by dragging his two sons into this life of revenge and danger. No way in hell would he do that to an innocent little girl who had already seen too much horror of the human kind. Resolute, he set of to accomplish his task.

As declared, John was back in the room in ten minutes time. He was pleased to see that Sam was ready to go, along with the other two, although Max looked more apprehensive than she had before. John addressed what he was sure were her concerns calmly and openly.

"Max, as I see it, you've got two options," he told her. She was listening attentively. "You can head off on your own, just like I promised. If you want to. Or, you can ride along with us."

Max chewed on her lower lip, but stopped as soon as she realized what she was doing. "Where are you going sir?" she asked quietly and respectfully.

"We're going out of state to visit some old friends," John informed her. "We go every year."

"Out of state?" she repeated and John nodded. He could see the wheels spinning in her head. It would be a little tough to have an extra person along, especially one that wasn't aware of what they did. But to keep her from getting back into a bad situation like the one she'd just escaped from, he was willing to make a few sacrifices.

"That would give you a few days to make up your mind," Dean offered quietly. He too had come up with some conclusions about Max and didn't want to see the little girl hurt. He took his father's lead on this and knew that Sam would be in agreement with whatever his father and big brother wanted.

"The people we're going to see can help you Max," John told her. "If you decide to find another foster family or whatever you decide. I'd hate to see you go off on our own."

"Yeah," Sam threw in. "You never know what other kind of creeps are out there. You're lucky we're the ones that ran you over." He paused and sheepishly ducked his head. "That didn't come out right." Max laughed a little.

"I know what you meant," she assured him. She stared at the three Winchester's silently making up her mind. "Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to go… with you."

"All right," John smiled, assuring her with his quick acceptance that she'd made the right choice. "Let's load up."

Not long after they'd left the motel, John pulled into a small café one block over. He'd led the kids inside and they took a booth towards the middle of the seating area. Max and Sam each took a seat across from the other and then John and Dean slid in as well. John next to Sam because he didn't feel like putting up with the slapping and annoying that the boys usually started as they waited to be served their breakfasts. This way he could also talk to Max and see her face when she responded. John considered himself a good judge of character most times and it was easier for him to figure these things out when he got all the information. Speech, intonation and the all important body language.

A waitress soon came over and handed around the menus. Max took hers hesitantly and set it on the table before her. John and the boys didn't notice as they all were perusing their own menus.

"Hi, I'm Mimi," the older lady in the café's uniform introduced herself. "What can I get you to drink?"

"Coffee please," came John's swift reply.

"Me too."

"Me too."

"I don't think so Sam," John smiled. Sam tried this ploy on a lot of mornings and he'd yet to get by John. "Have some juice." Sam sighed and looked up at the waitress.

"We have orange, apple and grape sweetie," she told him.

"Orange juice please," he answered on a sigh. The waitress smiled again and turned to Max.

"And what about you honey?" Max continued to stare down at the menu and John could see her shoulders starting to hunch over. He glanced up at Mimi and put a soft smile on his face.

"Could you give us a second?" She nodded and left to fill the orders she already had. John turned back to the girl. "What's the matter Max?"

She mumbled something that John didn't catch, but Dean did. The older boy glanced up and whispered to his dad, "no money." John sighed. Dean patted Max's shoulder and when she glanced up slightly Dean smiled and chucked her under the chin.

"I didn't think you had any money," John informed her quietly. He thought quickly, seeing that this was a sore spot for the child. "Let me tell you," he went on quietly. "Both the boys have chores that they have to do to earn extra money." This wasn't exactly the way it was but both boys knew better than to correct their father at the moment. "If you like, you can do some chores and I'll pay for your food and expenses, okay?"

That was a good enough sounding deal for Max. "Like what?" she asked, meaning the chores she would do.

"Well," John paused, unable to think of things she would be able to do while traveling that would make sense. It wasn't like he could ask her to clean weapons or create supernatural barriers. But once again, Dean came to the rescue.

"You can help me when I work on the car," he suggested. "You know, passing me tools and stuff. Or you can clean the car out whenever we stop so that it doesn't get full of trash."

"Okay," Max nodded happily, glad that someone thought she could be useful. John smiled gratefully at his eldest.

"We'll figure it out as we go," he told her firmly. "But for now, let's order." He looked back at the counter and caught Mimi's eye and the woman proceeded to their table right away.

"You all ready now?" she asked with a bright smile in Max's direction.

"Can I have milk please?" Max asked politely. Mimi nodded and jotted it down on her pad.

"And what would you like to eat?"

"Pancakes please," Max decided. It was the first thing she'd seen on the menu and it was all she wanted. Ever since the first time she'd tasted them in the outside world, they'd become her favorite breakfast item. There was just something about the way they melted in her mouth, all hot and fluffy with sticky sweet syrup running through the almost sponge-like texture.

"And do want the fruit plate that goes with it?" Mimi clarified. Max glanced at John, who nodded and Max agreed. Mimi finished writing it down and looked to Sam next.

"Can I have the trucker's special, please?" he asked, also polite. Not only did he not want Max to show him up, politeness was a mainstay in their family. Mimi nodded and before she could ask, Sam launched into his list. "Sunny side up, bacon and white," he rolled off and smiled charmingly. Mimi continued writing and turned to Dean.

"I'll have the same, but over easy please."

John waited until he knew she had that all. "I'll have the trucker's special as well ma'am. Eggs over easy, ham and white toast please."

Mimi finished writing with a flourish and headed back to the kitchen to deliver the order. She then returned with a glass of milk for Max. It was tall and cold, brimming with some froth at the top. Max took a long sip, enjoying the freshness as she hadn't had any in days. The boys began talking about how many miles they would be able to cover that day, with John occasionally adding comments. But soon a new thought occurred to him. He leaned forward to address Max.

"We're going to have to get you a few things," he decided. "Clothes and such." Max frowned but nodded. "We can work it out in chores, or you can pay me back later." She nodded and looked thoughtful, but before she could say anything, their order was up. Mimi had to make two trips but that was fine with them. The second time around, she carried some syrup bottles and a container of jellies.

"Here's a little treat," she told Max as she slid the syrup bottles onto the table. "We had a really good batch of chokecherries last year and we bottled some up into syrup. You can try it if you like, or there's maple there too." She didn't worry about Max's response, though it made her feel good to see the little girl's face light up in appreciation. She left the family to the deal of eating, though she kept an eye out for when John or Dean wanted a refill on their coffee.

John, who was as hungry in the morning as the boys usually were, didn't notice anything amiss, until he'd sated that first rush of hunger. He took a glance at Max, who seemed to be rivaling Sammy in the eating department. He almost couldn't see the food as it disappeared so quickly into her mouth. Apparently Dean noticed too since the young man had slipped a piece of bacon onto her plate.

"Thank you," she mumbled through a full mouth. He said nothing, just poked her side with his elbow and kept eating.

"It's been a few days, huh?" John asked and Max nodded contritely. She also slowed down and toyed with her fork. "Don't mind us," John told her. "If you're hungry, eat." Max nodded and resumed filling her stomach. John was glad to see that she ate all the fruit included with her meal. She didn't seem to be a picky eater like Sam used to be at that age. It only took one thought to decide on something and he excused himself from the table.

None of them paid attention as he strolled to the back of the café, towards the restrooms. And neither did they notice him swing around to peek into the kitchen where Mimi was at. And none of them had any idea that John had ordered a large take-away box to be eaten later on the road, until said box appeared along with their check.

John picked up the box and the tab and climbed out of the booth. He waited for the kids to collect their light coats and they ambled up to the counter to pay. John pulled out cash, since he hated swindling small town businesses with his fake credit cards. As Mimi rang it up on the counter, he leaned forward to ask her if there was any place in town that they could pick up some clothes for Max.

"Well, there's a general department store downtown," Mimi answered as she mentally counted out John's change. "They have most everything you'd need." John frowned and wondered at this. He was going to have to be careful with his cash for the rest of the trip. But before he could say more, Max piped up.

"I don't need a lot," she informed Mimi. "See, I forgot my bag at our last stop." Everyone in the little group was staring at her now and she dropped her head sheepishly for a moment. "We already called the owners and they said they could ship it c.o.d. to our friends place. So I just need a few clothes and stuff to tide me over 'til we get there."

John marveled that she'd put together the lie so quickly and easily. And it sounded completely true, coming from her innocent little face. Mimi's face softened and she leaned forward on the counter after giving John his change.

"Well sweetie, if you just need a few things and you don't mind, there's a secondhand shop downtown too. Bargain Treasures is the name of it."

Max beamed. "I don't mind at all." She gestured to her clothes. "I like hand me downs," the words tripped off her tongue, even though the phrase was still new to her. Mimi chuckled, assuming that she'd gotten the clothes from the older boys. John smiled his thanks at the woman and began to usher the kids out. At the door Max waved at Mimi and called out to her, "thanks Mimi. Everything was good. And that chokecherry syrup was the best I've ever had." She didn't say that it was also the first chokecherry syrup she'd ever had. Mimi waved back.

"I know honey, I know," she laughed delightedly. "Have a good trip." The door closed behind the little family and Mimi smiled as she imagined what Max's face would be like when she'd seen the little surprise that Mimi had thrown into their box lunch.


	5. Gaping Wounds

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to NC-17 for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident as the story progresses, but much further down the road.)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Five

Gaping Wounds

It didn't take Max long to find some clothes to buy at the secondhand store. She went to the junior miss section, what little there was of it, and began pulling clothes out to glance through them. John, Dean and Sam followed along behind her. By the time they'd reached her, she had two pairs of jeans, two t-shirts and a sweatshirt in her arms. She held them out for John to look at and he nodded.

"Don't forget something to sleep in," he told her. "And some shoes maybe."

Max glanced down at her feet and seemed about to protest. She glanced sheepishly back up at John. "Yeah, these are getting kind of worn out."

"Hey Max," Sammy called her attention back to the rack she'd just been at. Max walked over and Sam held out another shirt almost identical to one she already had in her arms. "How about this one?" Max moved to grab it, but something about it just bugged her. She shook her head and let go. "Why not? " Sam demanded. Max wrinkled her nose.

"Just don't like it," she shrugged.

"It's just like that one," Sam pointed bewilderedly at the aforementioned shirt.

"It smells weird," Max informed him. Sam's eyes shot up and he dragged the sleeve up to his nose to sniff at it. Dean tried to muffle some laughter behind his hand and was mostly successful. John just shook his head.

"Go ahead and try those on in the changing room," he told her. Max looked blankly at him for a moment and then turned on her heel and marched towards the back of the store. Dean waited until she was out of earshot, or so he thought, to talk to his father.

"So what's the plan Dad?" he asked in a low voice. "We take her with us to Pastor Jim's and then what?"

"Like I said Dean," John sighed. "It'll be up to her. I know Jim can find her a good home, probably with a hell of a lot less legal hassle than we'd face. Or she goes her own way."

"Dad, she's ten years old," Dean protested. "How could a kid that young survive?"

"They do it all the time," John informed him sadly. "And no, I don't think I'd really let her go off without figuring something out. But she seems to be a smart kid. I think she'll realize by the time we get to Jim's that there are good people in the world too."

"I hope so," Dean sighed.

Max returned in short order with a faint smile. She took her clothing to the counter and as John had moved to pay for them, noticed that somewhere along the short way; she'd managed to add a decently lengthed cotton nightgown, a better looking pair of sneakers and an old army duffel bag to the pile. As he neared her, she gestured to the bag.

"I wasn't sure," she began hesitantly, then straightened up. "I thought I better have something to pack the clothes in."

"Good idea," John agreed mildly and nodded to the cashier, an older man. The man began ringing up their purchases and it was a pitiful amount, to John's mind to spend on clothes. But Max seemed happy enough with her selections. Of course, going by what she had been wearing and by what she had said earlier to their waitress Mimi, perhaps she really didn't mind. Instead of having a bag, Max stuffed the purchases in the duffel bag and gave her thanks to the little old man. The group left the store and after placing the duffel in the car, John directed them to the general store, not far away. But before going in, he stopped Max.

"Do you know what you need to get?" he asked quietly, a little embarrassed to have to think of getting the girl under things and such.

"Yes sir," she nodded quickly. "Private things, a toothbrush, brush and comb."

"Yeah," he agreed quickly. "But anything else?"

"Like what?" Max truly seemed mystified. John's embarrassment was now obvious to everyone.

"Well," he drawled, glaring at his sons as they grinned at him. "Maybe some perfume or… I don't know, barrettes?"

"I don't like perfume," she informed him with a shrug. "It's so stinky and it makes my nose itch. And I've never used barrettes." She looked assessingly at him. "Should I get some toothpaste or soap? 'Cause I can just use what the motels leave in the room. And there's usually enough to take along from the amenities basket." John nodded at that. They'd done that themselves, to save money in a few areas.

"All right, get what you need and meet us at the counter," he instructed. The men followed her into the store and again she wasted no time in finding what she needed. To John's surprise, when she came back to lay the purchases on the counter, she laid a combination brush and comb pack that had some ponytail holders and barrettes in it. She smiled sheepishly up at him.

"My hair grows pretty fast," she smiled shyly. "So I might use them down the road. And the pack was just a dollar more that if I'd just bought the comb and brush." She said the last part quickly, as if justifying her decision. John didn't mind.

"That's just fine kiddo," he nodded and once again, a cashier began ringing them up. Max didn't refuse a bag this time, as that would have seemed weird.

"Okay, we all set?" John asked. The boys and Max nodded and they left the store. As they moved towards the car, John dug the keys out of his hip pocket and tossed them to Dean. "You're driving the first leg son."

"Yes sir," Dean drawled, though he didn't mind. He was used to this and had in fact been expecting it. He knew his father couldn't have gotten much sleep the previous evening. He was quite sure that John had been up quite a while thinking on the newcomer and what to do with her. And when he had gone to sleep, it would have been a light sleep. John had learned many years ago not to fall too deep into sleep when there were unknown variables in his vicinity. Not that a ten year old girl seemed to be any danger. Just something for his father to think over and ruminate on.

So they got under way, heading for the next stop on the trip. Dean drove, listening to music quietly on the radio. Their father slept off and on, being woken up every once in a while by the muffled laughs and talk from the back seat. Sam was doing his part to keep Max occupied on the long drive. He taught her a few variations of car games. He realized quickly that the license plate game, at which he excelled, would be lost to the girl because of her superior eyesight. So he pulled out some note paper and a few pencils and taught her how to play hangman.

At their first break in travel, Dean pulled into a gas station for a small break. John opened one eye, realized what was going on and promptly went back to sleep. Dean told Sam and Max to use the restroom if they needed it and then he'd have a turn. But Max had instantly busied herself with cleaning up the backseat of the Impala, like she had promised John she would. Dean approved, since that meant someone else was interested in keeping his baby clean and pure. She dumped the trash in the garbage by the gas tanks, and then returned to the car. As she closed the door, she heard John mumble something.

"What was that Dad?" Dean asked quietly.

John turned his head and without opening his eyes told them clearly, "if you guys are hungry, you can get into that take-away box. There should be fruit and sandwiches."

"Okay," he leaned down to grab the box from beside his father's feet. He turned around in his seat and held it out to Max. "I'm not hungry yet. You?"

"Umm," Max ducked her head a little and then peeped up at him from under dark lashes. "A little," she admitted. "Maybe some fruit."

"All right," Dean smiled. This kid was quite a character, he decided. "Go ahead and have some. Just throw the garbage in that extra grocery bag."

"Okay," Max smiled, again a little shy as she took the box from him. She opened it up to see what selection there was and gave an exclamation of surprise.

"What is it?" Dean demanded immediately. Even John woke up.

"Look!" Max said excitedly as she pulled out a small mason jelly jar containing a dark red liquid. There was a note attached to it and Max eagerly read it. "For you, since they may not have anything as good down the road. Mimi." She looked up at Dean. "Its chokecherry syrup."

Dean took the jar from her and let out a low whistle. "You know Max, if you can use that cute little face to hustle some freebies, then I'm really gonna like having you along this trip," he teased.

"Dean!" John admonished, half serious and half whining.

"No seriously Dad," Dean joked. He turned back to Max. "I tried hard, with Sammy, but the kid was just too gangly. So people only ended up feeling sorry for him. I mean, yeah, they'd give him a few extra portions or something. Probably figured that he was a growing boy and needed the food. But he never scored us chokecherry syrup."

"That's enough Dean," John decided.

Sam returned from the restroom and was shown the chokecherry syrup, but like his father, wasn't overly excited about it. Dean swiftly took his turn and soon enough they were under way again.

That became the way of their days. Dean of John would drive. Occasionally Max or Sam would end up in the front seat. Their nights were spent in motel rooms. Though on one night, there was a small fight about Max taking the only bed. She'd tried to offer it to John, citing that she could take a turn on the floor. But John was adamant that children needed their rest and properly on a bed. At seeing his stubbornness, the child finally gave in.

So they continued traveling for many days until a usual occurrence, at least for the Winchester's, occurred. Passing through a small town, with the radio dialed in to a local channel, at John's insistence, they heard the report about a strange death, not far from the small town that was their evening's destination. John had glanced at Dean in the back seat, Dean had glanced at Sam. Sam had shrugged. The byplay was noticed by Max, though she politely refrained from commenting on it. But the males in the car knew that something might be afoot and it was their self-imposed task to find out what might be going on.

They reached their motel room a little earlier than expected. Probably because the older males drove straight through to get there. This bothered neither of the younger children. Sam because he knew that there was something going on that might need to be taken care of. Max because she simply liked driving around. But as they were pulling into the parking lot of the motel, all four noticed the squeal of the alternator belt. John sighed and swore under his breath. They didn't really have time for this.

"Sam, Max," he said as he turned to face them. "Help me unload the bags while Dean has a look at the car." Both kids nodded as did Dean. But as soon as Max had brought her bag and another inside, she'd raced back out, eager to help.

"Dean," she called his attention back out from under the hood. He glanced up at her.

"Yeah Max?"

"Do you need any help?" she asked shyly. "Your dad said I could help you with the car."

There was a moment's pause and Dean mulled over the sincerity in her voice. The kid really did want to help him and help earn her keep. It was no skin off of his nose. And besides, it might be nice to have someone else in the family that he could share this with. His father was a mechanic by trade, but it was to feed his family. Sam had no interest in the car other than it transporting him or serving as the occasional nap spot. Dean well and truly loved fixing up and tinkering with cars, motors, but most of all, the families Impala.

"Well, for starters, can you hold this flashlight for me?" he asked, passing her the tool. She moved forward eagerly and took it from him. She leaned forward and then glanced down at the open jacket she wore. She peeled it off and then leaned forward with the light. "That's right," Dean encouraged. "Watch out for the engine, 'cause it's hot."

"Yes sir," she replied promptly. Dean chuckled.

"And don't call me sir," he admonished gently. "That's my dad."

"Sir! Yes sir!" Max replied cheekily. Dean just grunted and shook his head.

"Keep that up and I'll sick Sammy on ya," he teased as he pulled at the alternator belt. He'd wrapped his hand in a rag before doing so, but the heat was still felt.

"Is it loose?" Max asked. Dean grunted again and shook his head.

"It's not," he grumbled. "Tension is just right."

"Could it be wet?" Max asked next. Dean nodded, surprised that she'd thought of that. It was the next thing he was going to check.

"It sure is," he finally confirmed. That accounted for the squealing. But where had the moisture come from?

"Could it be because that lid is off?" Max pointed out quietly.

"Cap," Dean corrected her automatically, his eyes searching out what cap she meant. She helpfully pointed out the radiator cap which was just loose. She shined the flashlight and Dean could see some droplets of moisture. "Good going kid. You solved our little mystery." With practiced ease, he checked the level of fluid in the radiator and found it to be low. He cleaned his hands off with the rag he had and shut the hood down. "Come on, we'll go tell Dad what's up."

"Okay," Max smiled as she slid the switch on the flashlight to the off position. She followed him back into the motel room that John had gotten where his father and brother were no sitting, waiting to hear what was going on with the car.

"Find the problem?" John asked laconically. If Dean hadn't, then he would have himself, so he wasn't overly worried about the car.

"Actually Max did," Dean admitted with no small amount of pride in his voice. He moved to the washroom to wash his hands and Max followed suit, though she hadn't gotten dirty. "The radiator cap came loose and threw some antifreeze back on the belt."

"Do we have any antifreeze in the trunk?" John asked, going through his mind on the contents of the trunk.

"No sir," Dean supplied. "We'll need to pick up a gallon."

"Well, I'll head out and do that," John managed to say as casually as he could. "I'm sure there's a store around here somewhere. Maybe I'll pick up a paper too. You kids stay put."

All three nodded, not questioning him for their own reasons. Although it was odd, to Max since this was the first time that John had left on such an errand. But it made sense because they did need the antifreeze. And taking the car when it was acting up wasn't plausible. So she put it out of her mind and went to go through her bag and settle on her outfit for the next morning.

John was gone longer than anyone expected. But when he returned, he was bearing a few pizzas. The boys knew better than to ask him outright what he had found out. There was a newspaper, the local and one from the nearby biggest city tucked under his arm, already read. He set the pizzas on the room's only small round table and gestured at the kids to dig in. Dean muted the television and followed after Sam and Max. John opened a paper bag that he'd also carried in and handed around sodas and napkins.

"Sorry," he apologized as he set the last soda can down for himself. "I figured this would be quicker." He turned to Max. "I didn't know what you like on pizza sweetie. So I got one supreme meat lovers and one just plain cheese."

"I'm not picky," Max shrugged as she followed the boy's example and chose a slice for herself.

"Yeah, I've noticed that," John smiled. Sam and Dean had retired back to the bed closest to the television set and Dean had turned the sound back up. There was some minor hand slapping over control of the remote, but Dean as usual, won out. Things were fairly quiet, discounting the drone of the television, through the meal.

Finally, about half an hour later, Max excused herself to the bathroom and Dean all but pounced on his father. "Well," he whispered. "Did you find anything out?"

John nodded. "Three suspicious deaths all in the same area outside of town. Attributed to an animal, although no animals were seen around the area."

"An ideas?" Sam asked just as quietly as his elder brother.

"I'll need to do some more recon," John informed them. "Tonight, after you kids go to bed." Sam seemed fine with that, but John could see the immediate protestation on Dean's face. He held up his hand to forestall him. "I need you to stay with Max, Dean. We can't leave her by herself."

"I know that sir," Dean sighed. "I just don't like the thought of splitting up." John understood. His son had always had his back and vice versa. And neither one of them would ever consider leaving Sammy on his own, especially at his age.

"We might have to stay a few days," John mused.

"Stay a few days for what?" Max asked as she came out of the bathroom. The males spun around to look in surprise at her. None of them had heard her return until she had spoken.

"To make sure the car's running right," Dean came up with. Max nodded. She moved over to her bed and sat down. She stared at the TV for a few minutes, but her foot was tapping against the other in an impatient staccato beat.

"What's the matter Max?" Dean chuckled. He'd seen this behavior earlier, while they'd been waiting for their father. Her head snapped up, surprised at the question.

"Nothing," she protested lamely. The foot tapping stopped immediately. Then she looked sheepish. "Um, it's kind of boring, just watching television all night."

"We can change the channel," Sam groaned, throwing his big brother a triumphant look.

"It's not that," Max shrugged. "I've never watched a lot of it." The Winchester's didn't know just how true that was in her case.

"So what did you do?" John asked, interested in finding out more about this enigmatic child.

"I read a lot," she answered honestly. "Um, actually… can I look at the paper, if you're done sir?"

John glanced down at the disheveled papers laying half under the pizza boxes and nodded. He pulled them out and walked them over to her. She took them with a grateful smile and settled herself back onto the bed to read in comfort. Again all three males were surprised at how easily she seemed to tune out the annoyances around her. Max went through the two newspapers swiftly. But John watched as she perused each article, advertisement and announcement. He just didn't know how much she was retaining. Soon, she was folding the paper back up into a tidy pile. She got up and placed it back on the table. She returned to her bed and without any other distraction, the feet started tapping again. John hid a smile.

"Max, Sammy, why don't you guys start getting ready for bed," he suggested. Sam opened his mouth to protest. "Just get ready I said," John sighed. "I didn't say you actually had to get into bed yet."

Max just grinned at Sam and dug her nightgown out of the bag. "Want me to take my time Sam?" she asked sweetly. The thirteen year old nodded his head enthusiastically.

Max did as promised, drawing herself a bath. She spent as long as she dared, not sure if any of the others needed to use the facilities. But she figured if their need was dire, they'd be pounding on the door. She hadn't washed her hair, since she'd done so in the shower that morning. So with a quick toweling off, a brush of her hair and into her nightgown, she was ready to head for her bed. She put her clothes away and settled the ones she'd chosen for the next day on top of her duffel bag. As she went to pull back the covers of her bed, she noticed that there was now a book resting on top of the pillows. She glanced over at Dean and John since Sam had already disappeared into the bathroom.

"What's this?" she asked softly.

"A book," Dean pronounced slowly. "You know, the thing you like to read." He ruined the teasing by winking at her.


	6. Unheralded Lessons

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident as the story progresses, but much further down the road.)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Six

Unheralded Lessons

Max couldn't sleep, still. After her fears had been laid to rest, as well as they could be by the Winchester men, John had led her back to bed. This time, she didn't try to read, watch TV or any of the other tricks she'd seen Sam pull in the last few days to stay up later. She simply lay down, pulled the covers up as high as they'd go and stared up at the ceiling. All was quiet around her then and she heard Sam slowly drift off to sleep. She realized then that John and Dean were waiting for her to fall asleep as well, so she'd let her eyes drift shut and evened out her breathing.

The following conversation made little sense to her. All she could garnish was that John had been looking for something. What it was, she had no idea. The ideas that ran rampant through her mind ranged from the mundane to the terrifying. They could be searching for anything, although she felt that it was more a thing they searched for, not a person. And they didn't talk long enough to fill in any missing details. Such as what exactly were the clues John had found? What article had he been referring to and in what newspaper? Did John suspect that Max was more than they'd assumed? That was the one that kept her awake most of the night.

When Max awoke early the next morning, nothing in her mind had been resolved. She had a few choices before her. She could ask them what was going on. But in her experience, children were commanded, not included and explained to, unless the information was vital to their survival. She could wait it out and gather information as she could. Or she could leave. John had said that she could at any time. If she did attempt that, their reaction would be telling. If they let her go, then she eliminated from the list of things John and Dean were worrying over. But that would mean that she would have to leave and right now, this traveling family was her best bet for anonymity and the chance to search for her siblings.

On the other hand, if they refused to let her go, then she'd know something was up. And she'd reveal herself further trying to escape them. So it seemed her best bet was to wait and keep her eyes and ears open. She also needed to find an ally. Sam seemed the obvious choice, since he was so much closer to her own age. But that also was a strike against him. Since at times, Sam seemed as in the dark as she was being kept. So Max considered the two options left. Dean or John.

She thought over what her impressions were of these two men. She'd been going on gut instinct lately, honing whatever Manticore had provided in her genetics and training. But in this instance, her own survival was a far better teacher. And while she felt that she could trust them, she also realized that she felt at home with them because there was a structure similar to Manticore in place with them. John had the bearing of a military man. He ran his family as if it were a unit. There were brief moments when fatherhood shone through and he reveled in his pride of his children. But he seemed careful to keep those moments brief and extremely private. He tended to play things very close to the chest.

Dean was very much like his father. But he had seemed to develop an intense protective stance over his family. And while she was not part of the family, because she was a child and female to boot, Dean's protection extended a great deal to her. And there was also the fact that he just seemed to plain out and out like her. He didn't seem to mind that his father paid attention to her or complimented her. It didn't bother him that she was the outsider. Max mused on that and decided that she could work with that. Her only problem would be how much information she might have to share back. Leaving the comfort of her bed, Max slipped into the bathroom to continue ruminating on her thoughts.

As soon as he heard the bathroom door shut, John's eyes popped open. He'd taken a pillow and blanket and laid himself out on the floor to sleep. It wasn't a bad place, since the carpeting was shag. But he still wondered who was up at six in the morning after the previous evening. He sat up and checked the beds, noticing immediately the twin lumps in the boy's bed. He hauled himself up to his knees and saw that Max's bed was empty. He wondered if the call of nature had woken her up. He reclined and waited, but when he heard the shower start, he knew he better get up. The temptation to go back to sleep was whispering seductively in his ear.

Slowly, he swiped the pillow and blanket from the floor. He set the pillow in a chair and folded the blanket, not quite back to its pristine folding of the evening before, but he was too tired to care. Rubbing a hand over his face, he moved silently about the room, gathering up his morning essentials. The shower turned off in fifteen or so minutes, but Max didn't come out for several minutes. When she finally did poke her head around the door, John was surprised to see he still wrapped in a towel.

"Uh, forgot my clothes," she explained sheepishly. John smiled. It was a common occurrence with the boys before she'd come along. Of course, back then, they'd thought nothing of getting dressed wherever they had to.

"Go ahead and grab them," John told her congenially. "I can wait." Max nodded and hurried to just grab her duffel and take it back to the bathroom with her. The door clicked shut and this time it woke Dean. He came to wakefulness with a jerk and his eyes scanned the room swiftly. John sat still, letting his son wake up before talking to him.

"Max is finishing up in the bathroom," John told him. Dean nodded and let his head flop back down to the pillow. His nose twitched as he settled back and John had the sudden impish urge to rip the covers back from his eldest child. In fact, why did John have to be awakened at this ungodly hour and suffer alone? He discounted Max because she was the one that had instigated the waking up process.

With a deadly grin, John darted forward from his seat to put action to thoughts. He grasped the end of the blankets covering his sons and with an expert flip of his wrist had yanked them from the boys' forms.

"Dad!" Dean yelled, sitting upright in one fluid motion, his hands grasping for the covers.

"Dean," Sam whined in a sleepy voice. "Quit hogging the covers!"

"'S not me dingbat," Dean grumbled, still trying to get the covers back with one hand, the other going to shove Sam in the shoulder.

"Rise and shine boys!" John boomed as he rolled the sheets and blankets into a large ball. "Up and at 'em." Both boys continued to grumble at their father and John wondered where the heck the gung ho boys he'd been raising had disappeared to. Of course, they'd grown lax the past week, since Max had joined them. It was a little difficult explaining to a ten year old girl why John carried over so many of his marine exercises in discipline into civilian life.

"Attention!" he roared. That caught both boys attention. They stared at him in disbelief. He was pulling this routine now? "Fall in!" He waited to see if they were going to start moving. They were, reluctantly. "Front and center!" he barked and that got them moving. But before they could even manage to get off the bed, a little dark haired blur beat them to it.

John was astonished to see little Max standing three feet before him. Her clothes were just on, her hair still wet. But she was standing at perfect attention. John fought a smile, even as another piece of the little mystery in the back of his head found a new place in his mind. Whoever she was, wherever she was from, little Max obviously came from a family with military background. Sam and Dean had finally caught up and were standing on either side of Max. Sam was on Max's right; John's left as he was facing him. And it was strange, but as far as John could see; the boys were sloppy, compared to Max. He kept them standing there for a few minutes and could see the boys eying Max with interest and wonder. And however she was doing it; she seemed to inspire the boys to stand up a little straighter. This was good.

"At ease," he told them quietly. With precision, Max's arms went from straight at her sides to an equally straight fold behind her back as her right foot moved exactly eighteen inches to the right. Her balance set, she still kept her face and eyes straight ahead. John raised an eyebrow. Sammy still had to check himself to make sure he had the proper stance. Once he'd taken this in, John eased back.

"The mission ahead of us today children is car repair," he began, making it light and gentle. "At 0700 hours, the car, a wounded '67 Chevy Impala, black, deserted along the roadside will be retrieved. By 0900 I expect a diagnostic report, at which time you will also eat breakfast. Your assignments are as such. Samuel," he turned and stood before Sam

"You young man, are to find the number and addresses of any mechanical or supply shops, garages. Provide them to me once they are found," he moved to stand before Dean. "Your assignment Dean is to retrieve, if possible, the said vehicle. If you are unable to perform this task, report back to me immediately."

"Yes sir," Dean snapped off, though his face was smooth and soft, still sleepy-eyed. John nodded once and moved tentatively before Max. He was wondering if he should send her for breakfast. But he didn't want her going alone.

"Permission to speak sir," Max piped up, a little apprehensive. John looked into her gamine little upturned face.

"Permission granted."

"Request permission to accompany Private Dean on his assignment," Max asked. John had to immediately stifle a laugh as Dean bristled beside her.

"Why?" John asked.

"Two sets of eye are better than one," she replied promptly. "And the Private may require extra hands." John nodded. It was sound enough reasoning and those were Max's assigned chores. It also took care of what to do with her.

"Permission granted," he said. And again, to his surprise, Max moved back to attention and snapped off a perfect military salute. He responded in kind, not even thinking about it. He stepped back to look at all of them.

"Fall out," he stated simply. Sam and Dean snapped back to attention and all three offered a salute. They broke apart, Max waiting until Sam and Dean had moved away from her before she returned to grab her bag out of the bathroom. She smiled shyly up at John as he passed her on his way into the bathroom.

"Do you guys do that a lot?" he heard her asking the boys. He closed the door on their affirmative answer.

Dean watched the road as he and Max walked along the side of the highway. His father had given him precise directions to the car. And had stated that it was less than a mile out of town. They'd been walking a while now, and would be there soon if John's information was accurate. The pair hadn't said much and both were content it seemed to leave it that way. Dean was still wondering why Max had wanted to accompany him. On the surface that was fine with him. The kid was good with cars and her mind was like a sponge when he gave her information.

The little scene in the motel room puzzled him though. She'd responded to John's orders like a professional, something she was much too young to be. And like his father, he was leaning towards the idea that she'd been brought up in a similar situation as he and Sam had. Somewhere in her life was a military background. He just wondered if it was the Marines, like his father.

"Hey Max," he called suddenly. Her head turned to look up at him, though he saw her eyes darting back to the road occasionally. It was an understandable precaution, seeing as how last week she'd been hit with a car. "I was just wondering, did you grow up in a military family?" She hesitated for a moment and he wondered if the whole subject was going to be a sore point for her. But then she nodded. "Which branch?" he asked gently.

"Army," she replied softly.

"Oh," he smiled. "So snapping to attention is nothing new to you?"

"Not really," she admitted. "It was an every day kind of thing."

"Us too," he admitted. "Although not recently. I think Dad didn't want to scare you." He quickly ruffled her short hair and she ducked away from him, her hand racing up to smooth down her hair.

"I hate being short," she grumbled under her breath. Dean chuckled. He could see why it bothered her.

"So who was in the Army in your family?" he probed further, trying not to sound like he was interrogating her.

"Everyone," she answered easily, though she didn't meet his eyes.

"Your mom and dad?" he tried to clarify. And just as swiftly he saw her face shut down.

"I don't think my… mom," she breathed out shakily. Dean waited for her to go own. "After I was born… she was gone."

"Gone how?" Dean asked. "Did she die?" he asked gently, considerately. Max shrugged, her face looking pinched.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully, the words slightly pained. "She was just, gone. I don't know if she's alive or dead." Again Dean sensed it was the truth, but he also had the sense that there was more to the story she wasn't telling him.

"That's gotta suck," he sighed.

"I wish I could find her," Max started, but she didn't seem to know how to continue. "I want to ask her…"

Dean felt pity welling up in his chest. He pulled Max close for a one armed hug as they walked. "I know what you mean kid. There's a lot of stuff I wish I could ask my mom." Max stared up at him, feeling strangely connected to this boy.

"But we can't," she ended for him. He nodded and let her go. They continued to walk and just as John said they would, rounded a slight curve and the Impala came into view. It was completely off the road. John had seen to it that it wouldn't have been a road hazard. And Dean was thankful that it was still there. Any number of people could have caused it to have been towed. He picked up his pace and was glad to see Max did the same.

Later, as they were checking the engine over, Dean tried getting a little more information out of her. "So Maxie, if your whole family is in the Army, how many people does that make?"

"Lots," she answered quickly. "All my brothers and sisters." Again there was that grain of honesty and something left unsaid. This surprised Dean, since he'd gone under the assumption that she'd only have a few siblings. Eva certainly, maybe one or two more.

"And how many is that?" he grunted while he looked over the battery.

"Um," Max averted her face.

"Or are they just like brothers and sisters?" he smiled, thinking that perhaps he'd found the right question.

"Yeah," Max admitted softly. "We're not technically blood related. But they're still my brothers and sisters!" she defended her words hotly.

"That's fine by me," Dean smiled. "You can't choose who your blood kin is and sometimes it would be easier if you could."

"If I could I'd choose them," Max asserted quickly.

"And what are their names?" Dean asked, grunting again as he moved on to the radiator. There was silence and he glanced up at the girl. He could see that she was definitely worried over saying to much. "Max," he said, straightening up. He stared her straight in the eye. "You don't have to worry. I'm not gonna tell anyone about anything. If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. I just thought you might want to talk about them."

Max stared at him assessingly. She knew he was telling her the truth. She could almost read it in his face. She leaned forward, looking down at the engine. The decision was an easy one. It was almost torn from her, the need to talk about her siblings. "There's Zack," she began. "He's my big brother. And Ben. He always made up stories to tell me." As she began to talk about her siblings, the rightness of it flooded through her. She needed to talk about them, to remember them. It was the only way to keep them alive right now.

Max had finally run out of things that she felt she could safely tell Dean. He'd just grunted in reply, or had laughed at some of the kid's antics. And he'd returned a few of the stories. Telling her something Sam had once done. It was actually a nice time in which she could slightly relax her vigilance in guarding her tongue. She knew that Dean and his family still didn't know the absolute truth about her and if she had her way, they'd never find out. Secrecy had been drilled into her since birth. And after seeing how people reacted to strange things they didn't understand, she was eager to keep her secrets.

"Dean!" she spoke suddenly, as he continued to check over the engine. His head darted up to see what she wanted. She pointed at the radiator. "Look."

"What?" he asked peering closely at where she was pointing. He couldn't see what had her concerned.

"There's a hole there and there," she muttered, pointing out to pinprick holes. Luckily he didn't notice how she'd quickly dilated her pupils to see more closely.

"I'll be damned," Dean breathed, his nose almost touching the indicated hosepipe. He pulled back and gave her a wry grin. "You and those good eyes of yours," he shook his head. He sighed and turned to head to the trunk to remove some more tools that he'd need to remove the hose. It would definitely have to be replaced. He knew enough that those leak stopping sprays would probably be only a temporary fix.

Max felt a warm feeling in her chest as Dean had praised her. She followed after him. "Is that why the alternator belt was squealing?" she asked, her mind working rapidly. Dean unlocked the trunk and withdrew the tool kit and slammed the trunk shut before she made it all the way back.

"Probably," he admitted. "Fluid shooting back on it would make it slip."

"And what about the battery?" Max continued. Dean's affirmative responses and easy attitude made her feel a little more confident about putting herself and her ideas forward. "Didn't your dad say that it wasn't holding a charge?"

"Yeah," Dean confirmed as he opened up the tool kit. He pulled out an open ended wrench and attacked the hose end connected to the radiator. "We'll take that with us and see if we can charge it up at a garage. Worse case we'll have to get a different one." He slipped the wrench onto the end but found he'd chosen the wrong size. "Shoot. Hand me the seven sixteenths wr-!" Even as he turned his head to ask her, Max was already slipping the correct wrench into his hand. "Thanks kid."

"No problem, geezer," Max grinned. Dean smirked at her little joke. It always pissed Sammy off to be referred to as a kid. But at least Max didn't take it lying down and whining to Dad about it.

Between the two of them, they managed to make short work out of removing the hose. Dean turned his attention to pulling the battery out of its block and once he'd accomplished that, Max quickly cleaned off and put away his tools. Dean nodded with approval, even as he thought about trudging back to town with the heavy battery. But to his and Max's incredible luck, a truck was approaching and looking to be slowing down. He noticed that Max seemed to instinctively creep closer to his side the closer the vehicle got. Finally it pulled to a stop just behind the Impala. A woman dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, with short cropped brunette hair jumped out.

"Hey, you kids okay?" she asked in loud ringing tones.

"Yes ma'am," Dean replied swiftly. "Just had some car trouble."

"Yeah," the woman continued, eying them and the car with a slight air of suspicion. "I noticed this old baby when I headed out this morning. Figured if it was still here when I came back, I'd call the sheriff's office." She watched their reaction and seemed satisfied with whatever she'd been expecting. She stuck her hand out towards Dean. "I'm Dr. Anderson, the vet around these parts." She definitely noticed the little kid relaxing when she clarified her status.

"Nice to meet ya," Dean returned, shaking her hand politely, and then grimacing as he realized he'd left a little grease on her hands. Dr. Anderson noticed as well and just smiled ruefully as she rubbed the hand against the thighs of her jeans.

"I've had a heck of a lot worse on these hands, just this morning alone," she told him wryly.

"Well," Dean smiled broadly. "I'm Dean. This is my little sister Max." the vet nodded at Max and Max just shyly ducked her head. "My dad sent me out to see what I could do with the car while he made some parts calls."

"You stayin' at the motel?" Dr. Anderson questioned. Dean nodded. She gestured to her truck. "Why don't I give you a ride back into town? And I can let the sheriff's office know that the owners are taking care of this rig so they don't end up towing it."

"Sounds great," Dean acquiesced. "I'll just call my dad and let him know we're on our way back."

The trio parted, Dr. Anderson to her truck and Dean and Max to the trunk of the Impala. Max had picked up the tool case and was holding it for Dean while he called the motel room number that his dad had written down for him.

"Hey Dad," he greeted once his father had picked up. He listened for a moment then quickly explained the situation about the car. He listened again, and then glanced back at the vet. "Actually, we have a ride. A Dr. Anderson, the vet. She was going to report the car, but ended up offering us a ride instead." He paused and took the tool kit from Max while he waited. "She's driving a red Ford half ton, license plate…" He twisted around and glanced quickly at the plate, which he then related to his father. They'd learned early in life that no information was unimportant. And if this woman wasn't on the up and up, then John could get on her trail quicker than a fly to a pile of garbage. Dean listened a minute more than said good bye and hung up his cell phone. He slammed the trunk shut and checked to make sure he had the keys and that the doors were locked.

"Let's go," he said to Max cheerfully. She followed after him to the rear of the truck, carrying the hosepipe he'd removed.

The ride back to town was filled with small chat and little bits of information about the town and surrounding area. As promised, the doctor let them out at their motel and drove off in the direction of the sheriff's office to let them know about the vehicle not being abandoned. John met Max and Dean at the door and took the battery from his eldest son. Max stepped into the room and sniffed appreciatively. There on the table were steaming Styrofoam boxes that held the rich scent of pancakes.

"I thought you'd want to break out your chokecherry syrup this morning," John smiled as Max eyed their breakfast hungrily. "Wash up and I'll get things ready." Dean and Max nodded and headed to the bathroom. Sammy greeted them, looking up from his book as they passed by.

Breakfast was eaten swiftly. Dean relayed more in depth information about the car's status and Sam and John told him that they had found a reasonably priced garage not too far from the motel. They resolved to head over there as soon as they'd eaten, since the mechanic was expecting them.

The boys took turns carrying the battery, even though it wasn't really as heavy as they were making it out to be.

In mere minutes, they had arrived at 2-D's Garage. John informed them quietly that apparently the D's stood for the brothers that owned the shop, Duane and Darryl. As they entered the large open bay door, they could hear the tinkering of tools and muttered swear words. Sam, who'd taken the last turn of carrying the battery, moved over to the counter and dropped the battery with a thump.

"Yello there," a short bowlegged man piped up as his head came up from under the hood of an old military jeep. He looked to John first, though his eyes took in the whole group standing in the bay, gazing at him expectantly. "You John?"

"Yeah," John half smiled. "You're Darryl?"

The little man shook his head and wiped his hands on a rag that was hanging from the pocket of his bib dungaree overalls. "Nope. He's on break. I'm Jerry. Told me to expect you some time this morning."

"Nice to meet you Jerry," John offered his hand. Jerry took it with a big grin. John turned to the kids. "My kids, Dean, Sam and Max." He indicated them each in turn and Jerry gave them all a gap toothed grin.

"So what can I help you with?" Jerry asked, moving to the bench where Sam had dropped the battery. Dean moved forward to explain.

"Our radiator hose sprung a leak," he offered, without elaborating. Anyone working in a garage should know exactly what he was talking about. "And we need to check the battery. It's not holding a charge."

"All right youngin'," Jerry nodded, rubbing his chin. "We've got the hose, and I'll get the checker." He moved off to retrieve the computerized battery checker that the garage had invested in long ago, but stopped as he noticed Max leaning over the engine of the jeep he'd been working on. "Careful there kid."

Max glanced up at him. "Your timing's off," she announced. Jerry smiled indulgently and shook his head.

"No it's not," he denied.

"Actually it is," Max insisted. John stepped forward.

"Max, don't be telling the man his job," he spoke teasingly, though a little chastise entered his voice. People didn't like being corrected, especially by kids.

"But it is," she insisted again. "He'll end up wasting a bunch of time by trying to fix things that aren't wrong."

"Well time is money," Jerry chuckled. "Besides, I checked the manual on that. Those sparkplugs are exactly where they're supposed to be."

"The manual's a misprint," Max told him with a hint of a frown on her face. Jerry seemed set up to argue again. "Just call the 800 number in the front and they'll tell you."

Jerry glanced at Max, to the manual that he'd had laying open on the floor beside the Jeep. The kid seemed so sure of himself. And his daddy wasn't saying anything to gainsay him. Maybe the kid was on the up and up. The older boy sure seemed to know his business. "Well maybe it is," he finally admitted. He glanced over at the manual. He kicked it shut with his foot. "I shoulda known better than to trust that damn thing." Everyone laughed at his sheepish expression.

"Last resort?" John asked in understanding. The last place a mechanic ever looked was in a manual. Jerry nodded.

"Can your youngin' tell me what the timing should be?" he asked of John. But the man shrugged and turned a pointed glance at Max. She smiled and nodded, moving over to give the proper sequence to Jerry.

After that was accomplished, Jerry told them with a sigh, "I hope to get it runnin' right away. The owner's a real god customer and he needs it right away."

"Well that should take care of it," Max asserted with a decisive nod. As a group they moved back to the counter and Jerry quickly retrieved the battery checker.

"You know, it's a good thing you brought your son in here today," Jerry whistled appreciatively.

"I'm not his son," Max piped up before John could stop her. Jerry turned back from where he was heading, throwing her a puzzled glance. Then his eyes sharpened on her and he shook his head.

"I'm sorry little miss," he grinned. Max returned the smile with one of her own. Jerry retrieved the checker and brought it back to the counter. As he attached the checker to the battery he glanced up at John. "I've always cottoned on to daddy's teaching their little girls how to handle cars. You know, how to change a tire, pump gas, and check the engine over. Even if they don't know everything, just a basic idea of what the heck is wrong can save them a lot of trouble."

"It sure can," John agreed.

"It just shivers my soul when I think of all the little gals that end up with car trouble who end up in far worse trouble," Jerry sighed. "Most specially the ones that are on the road by themselves." He seemed to check himself and with a glance at Max, refrained from saying anything more.

"You're exactly right," John agreed heavily, also with a glance at the girl.

Soon enough, Jerry had checked the battery and let them know that it wasn't carrying a charge like it should be. He'd replaced the hose pipe, giving them more than enough, since hose piping was cheap. He and John wheeled and dealed on the battery. Jerry, in a moment of goodwill, told John that in thanks for Max clearing up his trouble with the Jeep, he was willing to let the battery go at cost. John wondered what his bosses would say about that and Jerry explained that Max had saved him a lot of overtime on the Jeep. The customer was a good one, who paid more for speed. So it would all even out. John knew better than to look this gift horse to much in the mouth and took the deal. It was with an air of satisfaction that the Winchester group left the garage.


	7. Breaking New Ground

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident as the story progresses, but much further down the road.)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Seven

Breaking New Ground

"Anything?" Dean asked of his father tiredly. It was after midnight and he and John were up, re-reading all the information they had gathered. After getting the Impala running again, John had done a few more surveys of the surrounding countryside, but had found nothing conclusive in his search. He did however find out that there had been some actual kills in the next county over. So he and the boys and Max had headed in that direction.

After presenting themselves as a family of history buffs, on a family vacation, which was one of their weaker stories, they'd been able to suss out a little more information. John would have preferred coming up with a better cover story to explain why they were in town, but with Max standing right there, he'd had no choice. The look she'd given him was strange enough, but then she'd dismissed whatever was bothering her. And she had kept her peace. John knew that pretty soon he'd have to come up with something to keep the curious child from asking too many questions. Of course it helped that he didn't press her too hard either. It seemed to be a case of 'you keep your secrets and I'll keep mine'.

"Nothing," he replied, just as tired as his son. They were ensconced in another motel and Sammy and Max were supposed to be asleep. John was quickly learning that this wasn't always the case with Max. Unlike Sam and Dean had been at that age, she didn't seem to require as much sleep. He'd tried to recall if Mary had ever slept less than he and to his chagrin, he realized that indeed she had gotten less sleep than he had. But he didn't know if that was natural genetics coming into play, or the fact that she'd been taking care of the boys and was forced to get up when they did.

"I can't figure out a pattern, a motive, or even what this thing is," Dean sighed in frustration as he dropped the newspaper clippings he was holding.

"Maybe you should try what it's not," John suggested, even though that's what he'd been doing himself and it didn't seem at all helpful.

Dean used both forefingers to rub at his eyes. "The killings are taking place every five years or so," he began. His voice was resigned and John knew that he was simply verbalizing everything he'd already gone through in his mind. "The dates aren't the same but fall within the general time frame. The killings all took place within a thirty mile radius. The known victims have been all over the board. Men, women, even a kid. There were no specifics as to the nationality, so this thing doesn't prefer Chinese over Italian." John frowned at Dean's lame attempt at humor.

"And all that's been found at the scenes of the deaths have been the remains of the victims," John concluded for him. He stared down at a photograph that he'd managed to copy from the newspaper archives that the local library kept. It was a grainy black and white photo, but gruesome nonetheless. He could only imagine what the rest of the scene had looked like, because he knew newspapers weren't inclined to feature photographs that made the general populace want to vomit up their toenails. The picture he held came close. "Go through the victims again," he ordered Dean quietly. In his gut he knew there was something about those people. There just had to be.

"Okay," Dean sighed as e rustled through some papers to get the list they'd compiled.

"We've got the most recent, Davis, Jodi A.," he read off the sheet before him. "Animal control officer, late twenties. Before her was Walstad, Barry, a twelve year old boy. Before him was Newhall, Douglas, the local hardware store owner. Kim Pipinich and Donny Carter, local teens out for a moonlit stroll. And the first victim we were able to find record of, Alan May, a local farmer."

"Where was May's farm at?" John asked. Dean shuffled around some more papers and withdrew the map they'd procured, heavily inked in red marker where the deaths had taken place. He pointed at the May's farm and showed his father. "And May's died where?" Again Dean pointed at another spot.

"From the article, it sounds like he was on his way home," Dean sighed.

"Any other clues or hints?" John asked in frustration. Dean looked thoughtfully down at the papers on the table before him.

"There was one thing," he grunted. He pulled out an article, obviously one that he'd taken from the library, judging by its curling edges and yellow tint. John leaned forward to hear what Dean had garnered. "This reporter mentioned something about an earthquake. Except from what I could gather, no one else felt it. No one else reported it. All this guy had to go on was that not far from the guy's car, some fissures in the ground had opened up." His look was expectant.

"Whose death?" John asked shortly.

"May's," Dean replied succinctly.

"Any other reports on this earthquake theory?"

"No sir," Dean grunted.

"Maybe you should check and see if Jodi Davis was out on a call at the time of her death," Max volunteered suddenly out of the quietness of her corner of the room. Both John and Dean jumped in surprise, spinning around to see the little girl staring at them ingenuously.

"Max!" John sputtered, exchanging worried glances with his eldest son. "You're awake," he stated unnecessarily. She nodded slowly. There was an awkward moment of silence.

"What was that you were saying?" Dean asked, trying to figure out when she'd come awake and how much of their conversation she'd heard. Max clambered out from beneath the covers and crawled to the end of the bed.

"Your earthquake theory," she explained. "You said that Davis, Jodi A. was an animal control officer. If she was out on a call when she died, she might have been responding to some animals upset by an impending earthquake." She glanced back and forth between the two men, her face almost in disbelief that they weren't catching on. "You know, 'cause animals can sense those things even when humans can't."

She smiled as John and Dean both looked dumbstruck. There was a sudden flurry from Dean as he singled out the article on Jodi Davis. He scanned through it quickly.

"Uh huh," he breathed out, sitting up straight to share the article with his father. "There it is. She was on duty that night."

"Did it say what she was doing?" John asked, anticipation running through him. Dean was already nodding.

"She'd been responding to noise complaints from area residents, and a call about a rattlesnake infestation," Dean read off quickly. He glanced up at his dad. "Snakes?"

John shrugged but Max already had the answer. "Snakes are attracted to the lower treble of the noise scale," she told him easily. "They respond to vibrations in the ground. If there was an earthquake, you can be sure they knew about it."

"But were they attracted or repelled by it?" John wondered.

"If it was an infestation, I'd say they were attracted," Dean surmised. Max was nodding thoughtfully.

"But most animals tend to avoid natural disasters," she mused. "Unless the snakes thought that the disaster was going to provide ample food source."

"Huh?" Dean screwed up his face, trying to follow her line of thought.

"Mice, rats, bugs, fleeing the scene," Max smiled. She turned to peer over Dean's shoulder at the article he still held. "Did it say what time of day she died?"

Dean glanced down. "Late evening. Why?"

"That's weird," Max scrunched her eyebrows together. "Snakes don't normally move around in the night. It's too cold for them." John was nodding his agreement. "Did they ever find evidence of the snakes?"

"It doesn't say," Dean shook his head. "It just mentions that those were the calls she went on. The article surmises that she was attacked by rabid dogs or similar wildlife."

"Well that tells us a lot more than we knew before," John sighed. He turned in his seat to stare at the little girl still hanging over Dean's shoulder. "And why aren't you asleep young lady?"

"I was," Max cried out indignantly. "But you guys were talking and it woke me up." She paused and took in the papers laying about everywhere. "Are you guys done now?"

Dean hid a smile while his father eyed the girl with a frown of disapproval at having been caught at their clandestine activities. "Yes, we're done. Go back to sleep now."

"Yes sir," Max nodded sharply and bounced back to her previous position on the bed. She snuggled down under the covers and both men watched as she promptly shut her eyes and her breathing evened out. They turned to look at one another, amazed that her curiosity hadn't run rampant all over them. John shuffled all the papers together and placed them in a manila folder.

"Get some sleep son," he told Dean. "We'll start fresh on this first thing in the morning." Dean nodded and did exactly as his father bade hi.

When morning rolled around, again Max was the first one up. Seeing that she was alone in her wakefulness, or so it seemed, she crept over to the table, where the manila envelope was waiting. She stared at it for long seconds, debating over whether or not she should look it over. She knew she only had part of the information, and that only from hearing John and Dean's conversation the evening before.

It was obvious that they were tracking something down. The thought entered her mind that perhaps this was what they'd been talking about before when she'd surmised that it was possible that they were talking about her.

It was almost as obvious to her that whatever they were tracking, it wasn't a simple killer. She wondered briefly if they were tracking down the man who had killed Sam and Dean's mother. But they'd said it was a man. Not an animal. There was a minor conflagration going on in Max's mind as she desired to learn more about what was going on. But that envelope was not her property. She knew that she shouldn't touch it. In the end, her indecision was her savior. If she didn't know what to do, it was better to take no action. After all, she knew that John would be upset if she'd gotten into something that didn't belong to her. Just the other day, he'd given Sam a talking to for borrowing something of Dean's without permission. So with those thoughts squarely in her mind, she turned away from the table and headed for the bathroom, and away from John's watchful eyes.

He sighed and let his head rest on the chair where he'd slept. He shifted a little, annoyed at how his back ached and creaked from the simple movement. He'd cursed himself silently for leaving that manila folder there. But as soon as he'd thought that, he had realized that maybe subconsciously, he'd done it on purpose. He knew that Max was usually up first in the morning and maybe he just wanted to see how she'd react to it.

She'd been tempted. Lord knew that anyone would be. But she'd kept out of something that wasn't really her business, no matter that she'd overheard him and Dean the night before. He was proud of her for that. Not many kids could keep a lid on their nosiness. Giving Max some time, he waited a while before rousing the boys.

The first order of the day after everyone was washed and dressed was breakfast. John and Dean were itching to get back at the case they'd built up. Without a precise timeframe of when the deaths occurred, they didn't know when another might occur. Sam was full of chatter at their meal about some of the things they could do in town if they were going to stay on for a bit. And just as swiftly, talk turned about getting to Pastor Jim's so that they could see friends that they made at camp the previous year. Through it all, Max sat silently, eating calmly. But John wondered what she was thinking about.

As it turned out, Max may have been able to deny her curiosity regarding the manila folder. But she still wondered if the earthquake theory Dean had reported would hold any water. Short of finding some tremor monitoring device, she wasn't sure how to accomplish the task of finding out. When the revelation of what to do came to her, she almost smacked herself in the head as she'd seen the boys do on occasion.

Even though she wasn't finished, she set her fork down and addressed John. "Excuse me sir, may I be excused from the table?" she asked as politely as she could manage. John nodded out of course. He figured that she needed to use the restroom. But to the family's surprise, Max veered in the direction of the front counter. She held a brief conversation with some people at the counter and the waitress that had served them. There were audible sighs and a few glances towards the Winchester table. John did his best to ignore them and wondered what on earth Max was doing. One of the ladies present at the counter patted Max on the shoulder and then gave her a quick hug which Max accepted. After appearing to wipe a tear away from her eye, Max returned to the table.

John watched and waited until al eyes had returned to their rightful place and no one was watching them. "And what was that about Max?"

"I lost my dog," she told him quietly. Sam and Dean had stopped eating as well. Sammy looked supremely confused.

"Huh?" he grunted. "When did you get a dog?"

"We've had Sookie for years," Max told him calmly. "Remember? And we lost him a few days ago. We looked for him, but he had just disappeared. So we were staying in the area for a little while in case he was found. And those nice people over there told me that we can speak to the sheriff's department animal control officer after nine o'clock."

John and Dean were starting to catch on, but poor Sam was still in the dark. But at the look on his father's face, he held his peace. "And what are we going to tell the Sheriff?" John asked calmly, arranging his cup of coffee, to give himself something to do.

"That Sookie is a full grown Husky, who got away from me when he took off after a rabbit at the park," Max went on. "Of course Sookie is really good at hiding and if they get a call about any stray dogs, can they please call us so we can come and get him."

"And what happens when they don't get any call about any stray Huskies?" Dean asked mirthfully.

"I'll be so distraught that I'll hang around the office and mope over my poor lost puppy," Max grinned at him. "And then if there happen to be any calls involving barking dogs or snake infestations, why I'm sure I'll hear all about it."

"And what good will that do us?" Dean asked tiredly. Even if their theory was correct and he really wasn't sure it was…

"It would be a lead," John agreed. "But we don't know that it's going to happen any time soon," he explained to Max. She shrugged.

"I don't know," she admitted softly. "I just get the sense…"

"Get the sense of what?" Sam demanded. He was interested suddenly in what was going on. He knew well enough why they hadn't spoken of hunting in front of Max, but he was now upset that suddenly she was being included where he hadn't been. John's look told Sam that his father knew exactly why he was upset and the small shake of his head seemed to indicate that he hadn't told Max anything. Sam glanced at his older brother and knew too that Dean hadn't deliberately involved her.

"Things just don't feel right," Max explained hastily. In truth, she had no words for what her senses were telling her. It was mild, it was elusive. But there was very definitely a sense of apprehension filling the air. Like the calm before the storm. Like a deep breath before a long drop. Her nerves were starting to tauten up and something in her mind was humming.

"What things?" John pressed. Again Max shrugged. John exchanged glances with the boys. Although they didn't know it, John had dealt with people like this before. They weren't clairvoyant or telepathic. They were just people more in tune with their senses and intuition. He respected it because he himself had been developing a similar sixth sense of his own. But he hadn't seen it before in a child Max's age. But didn't Mary always used to say that children could always be trusted to know the good from the bad. They were still so close to innocence. But Max was no regular child as far as he could tell. He started thoughtfully at the three children. Dean and Sam were wary, though whether it was from Max's plan or any oncoming danger, he wasn't sure.

In the end he decided to humor Max. They could try it for a day or so and see if any information turned up. At that point it was the only lead they had. Once he told her so, the group paid for their meal and left. They arrived shortly at the sheriff's office and Max conveyed her sad story to the deputy in charge. It didn't escape John's notice that she was wary of the officer. But nothing untoward happened to her. The officer directed her to the animal control officer on duty and Max repeated her story with a few embellishments thrown in by the boys. With a sympathetic nature, the ACO let Max hang around the office. John made a show of staying with her for a while before they decided that the boys and he would go out and search some more.

They returned for Max at lunch and there was nothing to report. Max decided to give it a little while before she returned, lest the officers get tired of her presence. But it was a small town, with not to much in the way of unlawfulness going on during the day. In the evening, they'd have their shares of rowdy behavior down at the bars. But true to Max's senses, something happened shortly after eight o'clock, just as Max was preparing to leave for the night. Several calls began to filter in from the west end of town. Dogs were barking, setting up and some were even said to be hurling themselves at fences in various neighborhoods. The ACO told Max that he needed to head out to take these calls and he'd let her know if they found her dog among the throng. Max thanked him and rushed outside to find John and the boys waiting for her.

"Got a map?" she asked Dean as she climbed into the back seat of the Impala. Dean merely leaned forward and plucked a map from the floorboard. He waited and Max began reeling off the addresses of the complaint calls.

"The first was from 216 Delaware Street," Max listed. "The next came from 111 Boulder Avenue. The third was an officer out on Sheep Flats Road. And the last one that came in just as I was leaving was 1400 Duvall Lane."

"Wow," Sam teased, "you didn't even need to right those down." Max grinned impishly at him, and then turned her attention to looking over Dean's shoulder. He was dutifully circling off each address.

"They're all out on the west side of town," he informed them. "The officer's call was from a road that leads out into the country."

John nodded and digested the information. There was no doubt in his mind that he needed to go check this out. And he'd be an idiot if he didn't take some back-up, not knowing what this thing was. So Dean was along for the ride. But what to do with Sam and Max? He was loathe to return them to the motel room and neither did he want to leave them at the diner by themselves. There was no choice it seemed but to bring them along. But what to tell Max?

"Are we going?" Max asked softly, as if reading John's thoughts.

"We're going," he confirmed. "But you and Sam are going to stay put in the car while Dean and I check this out." Sam arched an eyebrow in his father's direction, but didn't protest. There'd been many times that John had left Dean to look after him in the motel room, car or whatever they used. And now it was his turn to look after Max. It kind of made him feel good that his father had the confidence in him to do so.

The drive was silent but for the directions Dean gave his father. John, while taking in the directions, was also mentally going through the armament in the trunk of the car, trying to decide what to take, what would be of use and what to leave behind. He knew that Sammy would have to be armed with something on the very slight chance that whatever this thing was got too close to the younger ones. But given Max's dislike of guns, he didn't know what to do with her, or how to impress the need for possible self-defense on her.

They arrived soon enough at where the first of the calls was listed. And even before they arrived, they could hear the dogs howling and the crashing of wooden fences. John continued to drive, cautiously and slowly. He glanced up once in the rearview mirror and saw that Max was sitting rigidly. "Max?" he called her to attention and she glanced up, surprised. "What's the mater?"

"It's getting worse," she confided in a low whisper. He nodded and quickly turned his eyes back to the road.

"We'll take care of it," he promised. They reached the lane where the sheriff's officer had called in from and John pulled the car off the road. Dean nodded once and dropped the map once again to the floorboard. He climbed out of the car and moved around to the trunk while John did likewise. Max moved to open her door but Sam stopped her.

"We stay here," he told her imperiously. Max sighed and then nodded, her hand dropping from the door. Quickly, John and Dean had assembled their cache of cartable weapons. John called Sam outside and armed him with a small pistol. He had no fears in leaving the weapon behind, knowing how well both his boys handled the weapon. Sam put the gun in his coat pocket and climbed back into the car. He locked all the doors and gave a weak wave goodbye to his father and brother. Max continued to stare at the road ahead of them.

John and Dean walked forward down the road. They had no idea which direction to go, but something seemed to be pulling John forward. He figured that all he could do was listen to that instinct. Perhaps it would tell him when to turn or if something was coming. He could only pray that the limited amount of supposition they had about this supernatural event wouldn't get them all killed.

Sam and Max waited in the car as the elder Winchesters disappeared from sight. Sam nervously kept one hand on the butt of the pistol in his pocket. He wanted to be prepared for anything, just as Dean had always seemed to be.

It was perhaps half an hour later that Sam suddenly noticed the silence. The dogs and other animals that had been howling cut off as if someone had suddenly muted the entire area. Sam was startled as Max's head snapped up.

"Sam!" she whispered urgently, as her gaze darted around. The inky blackness of the night was pressing in on her and she couldn't explain her sudden panic. "We have to get out of here!"

"No," he argued reasonably. "Dad said to stay put."

"We have to go! Now!" she yelled the last part as she grabbed for the door lock. Sam, in the front seat started to climb over the seat and stop her, but she was too quick. The door was unlocked and she was tumbling from the car. Sam jerked back and unlocked the driver's side door and exited slowly.

"Max get back in the car," he ordered her. But she was rushing around the front of the Impala.

"Sam run!" she yelled as she yanked on his jacket. The panic that had seized her began to creep into Sammy's consciousness and finally he too could sense that something was not right in their surroundings. Instead of repeating his father's instructions like a mantra, as he had been doing, he took to his heels and chased after the smaller girl.

Max tried to keep herself from running too fast. She knew she didn't want to get separated from Sammy. Something she could easily do in seconds. For some reason the protection that she'd always felt towards her Manticore siblings was rising up in her to enfold Sam in its net. She couldn't let him be hurt. John and Dean would be furious if she did. Always, she had been the follower within her unit. Now it was her time to lead.

So she led him straight down the road John had parked off of, until they came to a small copse of trees to their left. She veered towards them and glanced behind her to see Sam hot on her heels. Once she reached the trees, she paused to wait for him. She pushed him on when he would have stopped.

"When it stops," she ordered him tersely, "climb one of the bigger trees."

Sam was about to ask what was going to start when he felt it. The earth began to shudder under his feet. It was a teeth jarring sensation and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to rise. Like Max, he wrapped his arms around the trunk of a tree, terrified that it was going to come crashing down on him. But it didn't. He didn't know how long the quake lasted. It seemed as if the tremor was going on and on forever. And Sam hadn't had the forethought of wearing a watch so he couldn't check how much time had elapsed. The next thing he knew, Max was pushing at his leg. Numbly, he began to climb the tree he'd been clinging to, gratified to see that Max was doing likewise with her tree.

The evening's excitement didn't end there as both of them heard a low growling noise emanating through the copse. It seemed to come from the direction of where they'd left the car. Sam glanced at Max, but she didn't return the look. She had her head cocked as if listening for the direction of the sounds origins. But her tracking was disrupted by angry shouts in the distance. The words were garbled, but the voices were familiar and welcome. But before Sam could shout out for them, to let them know that he and Max were safe, she shushed him.

"Quiet!" she hissed.

"It's Dad and Dean," he whispered back.

"I know," she whispered impatiently. "But there's something else out there." Before Sam could ask what, Max began to scale the tree even higher. She managed to make it almost to the top of the tree before it began to creak and sway in protest.

"Max?" Sam asked as quietly as he could. "Max, what do you see?" He waited, growing impatient with every passing second. He began to wonder if he could ascend as well, if the tree would hold him and see what was going on. But before he could put the thought to action, she was descending again.

"There's something out there," she repeated, but her voice was shaky this time. She stared at Sam, her eyes wide. As if she wasn't sure she wanted to voice her thoughts on what it could be. Her voice dropped to where it was barely audible. "I don't think it's human."

"Oh man," Sam moaned. He knew he'd get the tongue lashing of a lifetime from his father and Dean for having let Max see whatever the heck that thing was. But it wasn't his fault. Max had a mind of her own. "What did it look like?" he asked quickly.

Max shook her head. "It looked like a jumble of snakes," she said with awe and disgust in her voice. "Up on two legs, with snake arms longer than the others. And a large head. Eyes were black, but that could be because it was nighttime." They heard then John and Dean yelling. Max's head cocked again and her eyes widened in horror. "There's another nomily," she hissed and began to shimmy down out of the tree. Sam began to follow, but Max was definitely too quick for him this time.

John and Dean had felt the earthquake begin. The force was enough to knock them off their feet. But the moment it had ended, both men were up and running back to the car. As one, they could almost hear the staccato beats of their steps on the gravel road matching their frenzied thoughts. '_Sam! Max! Sam! Max!'_ Neither could explain how they just felt in their guts that Sam and Max were in danger. If Max hadn't been around, they would have laughed it of. Sammy was always getting himself into trouble. But now they had a little girl in the mix that was totally ignorant of their way of life.

When they reached the turn in the road where John had parked the car, they both skidded to a halt in disbelief.

Where the Impala had previously been sitting parked, there was now a large rent in the road. The car's back end had succumbed to gravity and fallen in and even as they watched, it was sinking down even lower. John had screamed for his son then. The plea called out in harsh, gasping tones. But before he could run forward to save the children, Dean had grabbed his father's arm.

"Dad! Look!" he screamed. And well was his caution, for directly behind the vehicle was very probably the thing that they'd been searching for. And like Max had described to Sam, it looked like a knot of snakes all rolled together. But it was upright and vaguely man shaped. With precision instinct, John brought his shotgun up and had locked in his target in seconds. But before he could shoot, a scream and a blackish blur had him swinging around.

To John and Dean's utter horror, Max had coming flying towards them, tackling a second beast from where it had been poised to take them out. With mounting distress, they watched as beast and child went rolling across the road and into the slight crevice where the rent in the road ended. Max jumped out as quickly as she'd fallen in, free of the thing's grasping tentacles. She aimed a sharp kick into the thing's head, snapping it backwards and she darted back from the hole.

John pushed Dean towards the child as he advanced on the other demon-like being. He didn't know where Sammy was, but he would be damned if the creature before him got to anyone he had decided to protect. He heard more grunts from behind and to the left of him, but he kept advancing, holding the shotgun before him, but taking care to be aware of his peripheral area. He didn't need another sneak attack.

"There's only two!" he heard Max call out. He nodded once. That was all he needed to know. The creature behind the car had circled around it now, larger and more rotund than its partner. But John didn't care. The shotgun was primed and John took careful aim. The recoil into his shoulder was nothing compared to the creature's shrieks of pain as the shotgun shell exploded in its belly. Its tentacles wrapped around its midsection, almost as if it were trying to push its guts back in. He heard a similar report from Dean's shotgun.

But the creature was still standing before him. John cocked the gun again and aimed higher this time. The dying shriek was cut off when the creatures head exploded. "Shoot the head Dean!" he shouted out. Dean's shotgun roared again and all was quiet. John advanced cautiously on the figure now lying on the ground. His caution was well warranted, since he'd seen creatures survive shotguns to the head before. But all that was going on seemed to be a snake-like tendency to perform a death squirm. The tentacles flopped and wiggled, but the main ones that John cold only surmise as the arms and legs were still.

He nudged the creature with his foot, ready to jump to action again, but there was nothing. Only then did he let his breath go. He whirled around to see Max kneeling beside the other creature's body, staring at it. "Max!" he yelled, catching her attention immediately. "Where's Sammy?"

"Up a tree," she answered shortly and went back to staring at the body. John's eyes widened, taking in how calmly Max seemed to be dealing with this. But he needed to find his youngest son. "Sammy!" he called, to the right, where Max had come from.

"I'm here Dad," the call came back and filled John with relief.

"Its okay son," he called back. "You can come out now." It didn't take long for Sam to reappear. Although slightly longer than it had taken Max. He jogged into the roadway, the pistol out and in his hand. John was glad to see the guardedness that Sam was exhibiting. But upon seeing the two dead creatures and the Impala, still sunk low into the crevasse, he slowed and finally halted, before letting out a low whistle. John and Dean took the last few steps and quickly checked over the youngest Winchester.

"She saved us Dad," Sam whispered, staring at Max's form, still bent over the creature. "If she hadn't run away, we'd have been in the car."

"I know Sammy," John muttered gruffly, dragging his son closer to hug him tightly. "I know."

"Uh Dad," Dean grunted. He was all for making sure that Sam was okay, but getting touchy feely was a little much. "I think we need to do some damage control," he suggested, jerking his head in Max's direction.

Max had flown to John and Dean's rescue without thought for her. When she'd realized that there were two creatures and not just one, she'd known that she had to warn John and Dean. As she'd come out of the copse of trees, she'd seen immediately how the creatures had drawn Dean and John into a trap. All she could do was shout a warning and take out the creature that was poised to attack the men. A short fight had ensued and the creature was stronger than it looked. But Max had not spent ten years of her life learning every martial art that could be drilled into her for nothing. Once she'd gotten the creature down, Dean had taken care of it with the shotgun as John did likewise on its partner. She stared at the felled creature, a reality on all the things she'd ever had nightmares about. The nomlies that Ben had hinted at now come to life. While John and Dean had been distracted by Sam's arrival on the scene, she took the chance and rolled the creature over. To her surprise, the creature had no barcode. It puzzled her. But maybe it had only been the transgenics that were given barcodes.

She wondered about the other one. And while the three Winchester's stood together and wondered what to say to her, she rose up from the ground. Careful not to fall into the wide hole in the road where the car rested, Max studied the other creature. There was something different about it that tugged at her. She checked and it too had no barcode. But unlike the other, there was something decidedly feminine about it. And it was then that Max realized that whatever these creatures were, they were mates. And judging from the distended belly, procreating mates. Many things clicked into Max's mind.

Their appearance would account for someone mistakenly thinking they were snakes and making that call to the animal control officer. The reports of animals being torn apart and humans every five years or so made sense as well, if one considered the breeding angle. The pregnant female probably required a larger source of nourishment in preparation for its brood of young. Its mate probably procured that nourishment in the form of larger humans. Humans who just happened to be in the wrong place in the wrong time. They were probably underground dwellers who could somehow burrow rapidly. Max wasn't to sure on that part, though the crater in the road was mute evidence to some powerful method of ascension. She shook her head and glanced behind her when she heard the footfalls. Now it was time to see if her other theories panned out.

"You hunt these things, don't you?" she asked softy of John. He glanced at the boys and then slowly nodded. She rose to her feet. "Is this what killed… your wife?" she asked as gently as she could. He shook his head in the negative. "Was it something like this?" Again he nodded slowly, apprehensively. Max sucked in a big breath. Things fell into place and she understood at last the veil of secrecy that had existed on their part. She let her breath out slowly as she contemplated the three males. John was staring at her, while Dean and Sam were awkwardly shuffling their feet, not knowing what to say to her. She grinned suddenly. They were… kind of cool.

"So," she began grandly. "Should we call for a tow truck, or drag these off and bury them first?"

The three Winchesters all stared in disbelief at the little girl. She beamed at them and Dean began to laugh. Sam nudged hi with his elbow and Dean sputtered out a cough. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "Not what I was expecting."

"Nor me," John sighed. It looked like there was another gung-ho child come into his life.


	8. Fading Into Normalcy

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident as the story progresses, but much further down the road.)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

A/N- Just to let you know, the town mentioned here, does exist. Since I'm familiar with it and some of the surrounding countryside, I decided to use it as is. However, all the characters that are in this town are purely my own, not representing anyone who actually resides in the town or surrounding area.

When It Changes

Chapter Eight

Fading Into Normalcy

"So what do you think Jim?" John asked in a heavy voice. Pastor Jim, one of his oldest and dearest friends, sat on the other side of the desk. He was leaning back in his chair, thoughtful. He'd listened to John's story without interruption. And he agreed with John, Max couldn't stay with the Winchesters. It was hard enough for John, going after the demon that killed his wife with the two boys in tow. But to add another child to the mix, even one as adaptable as Max had proven to be, was just unthinkable.

"Oh, I can certainly find her a family to live with," Jim sighed. That was what John had been after. But Jim also saw signs that it wasn't really what John, or the boys wanted. After meeting Max, the first day they'd arrived, Jim had seen the camaraderie between the children and the special affinity John held for the little girl. "But is that what she wants?"

It was John's turn to sigh. "I don't think so," he admitted slowly, staring vacantly at a point on the wall just over Jim's shoulder.

"Well, what does she want?"

"She wants to find her family," John told him, stressing the word _her_. Jim nodded. That was very understandable. "But she won't tell me anything about them, other than vague things the kids used to do when there were no adults around."

"Like what things?" Jim asked in mild concern. John waved one hand, apparently picking up on Jin's apprehension immediately.

"Just pranks they pulled, stories they told each other," he explained. "The usual kid stuff." But even as he said it, he knew that there was nothing usual and typical in the specific information he'd garnered.

"So what's her plan?" Jim asked after a moment. John shrugged.

"I think she's just going to roam around until she finds one of them to hook up with," he frowned. That idea didn't sit well with him, just like any other decent man. It certainly didn't with Jim.

"Does she realize just what kind of people are out there?" Jim demanded in shocked tones. "What predators are so eager for the chance to take advantage of a young kid like that? Not to mention anything in your line of work, since she knows about it now."

John ducked his head. He really, really hadn't meant for Max to discover the supernatural. Although in some ways he felt better that she knew. She wouldn't be able to casually dismiss things the way other humans did and so become susceptible to the otherworldly forces that disrupted life on earth.

"She knows," John said heavily, his voice deep and regretful. "She keeps trying to tell me that she can take care of herself."

"Physically, she may be able to defend herself," Jim conceded. "We've certainly seen proof of that." Both men smiled as they recalled a moment earlier in the day where Max had whooped another child's butt, when the older girl just wouldn't leave her alone. John had been astounded at her skills. Heck, for that matter, everyone had been impressed. Max on the other hand just shrugged off the praise and tried to make herself scarce. "But what will a ten year old child do to survive?"

"I know," John nodded. "It's either call the authorities, or find someone ourselves to take her in." Jim nodded.

It didn't work out that way, of course. As soon as John and Jim had decided to go ahead and locate a family willing to take Max in, and then inform her, Max had disappeared. Sam and Dean had been frantic when they couldn't find her. John cursed himself up and down as only a marine could, for not expecting this. They'd left Jim's earlier than planned to try to find her. They could only hope like hell that they caught up to her before someone or something else did.

And on the entire ride John was treated to two distinct diatribes from his sons about keeping Max with them and making her a Winchester.

She was loyal, she was brave, and she'd fought those creatures and protected Sammy. They needed her, she trusted them, and she couldn't be on her own. And the more the boys repeated this, the more John began to believe it too. So when they finally found her, by simple chance, sitting on a bench in front of a small town barbershop, John was ready to open up the family door and let her walk in. If she wanted it.

He remembered Dean's shout when the teen had spotted her. He'd braked hard and looked to where his son was pointing. He pulled over and the boys were scrambling out of the car before he'd even turned it off. They'd both run across the street, heedless of the cars and other people around them, calling her name.

Max had looked up from her miserable little huddle, her head rising from her drawn up knees. When she had realized who it was calling for her, she'd thrown herself into Dean's arms. John had followed behind them quickly. And joined in their care and concern. Max had sobbed out to them that she thought she had found her big brother Zack. But it wasn't him. It was never him. That was all John needed to hear. He'd scooped her up and carried her back to the car as Dean and Sam eagerly followed behind. He didn't speak as he drove away from that barbershop bench. He didn't speak to the kids as he stopped to make a phone call from a pay phone. He didn't speak until he had the information he needed and told them where their next stop was.

They drove most of the night, the kids dropping off slowly. John pulled off the road finally when he could drive no more. He'd woken Dean and got a few hours of shuteye while his eldest drove on. When they reached the destination that John's informant had provided, finally he spoke. He'd told Max that they were at the place of someone that could forge papers for Max. All she had to do was tell him the name that she wanted on the papers. His suggestion was Maxine Winchester. Her eyes had shone brightly when he made that announcement. There was no containing the excitement.

She had agreed and that was how they came to be moving into a partially furnished three bedroom house in Geraldine, Montana. He was starting work there in a garage the next day. And in less than a week's time, the kids would be starting school. John had been of two minds when it came to settling down. But it was Dean's last year of school and he felt he owed it to Mary's memory to at least try and garner some normal memories for the kids. And normal meant school, parties, graduation. And Sam and Max would benefit as well.

"So who gets what room?" Sam asked as he carried his sleeping bag and duffel into the living room. John had surveyed the house by himself while the kids waited at the motel. After living so long in tiny apartments and motels, they weren't overly particular. All John really cared about was the house being defensible, having enough room for them all and that all the necessities worked.

Dean followed after Max, who was also lugging in her bag and sleeping bag. They entered the front door and were immediately in a long rectangular living room, with only an exit to their left, which led to the hallway and kitchen. A few steps brought them into the small dimly lit kitchen. John led them through the hallway. Directly ahead of them was the bathroom. There were stairs to the left, behind the kitchen wall. Between the stairs that must have turned to make it all the way upstairs and the bathroom, was a door.

"Boys, you take the biggest room upstairs, since you're sharing," he instructed. He then pointed back to the first room on the kid's right. "I'll take this one. Max, you can have the other room upstairs." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the staircase. As one, the family nodded and separated to put their belongings in their designated rooms.

As John took his bag into his room, he took a mental inventory of what the house came with and what he'd still need to get. The kitchen came with a table and four rickety old kitchen chairs from sometime in the sixties. There was a dilapidated sofa in the living room. There was an abandoned washer and dryer that sort of worked in the basement, left behind courtesy of the last tenant's. John figured that they could use the camp kit in the kitchen. Two small frying pans, two stew pots and two coffee pots, made up their cookware. And each person was allotted a camp cup, plate/bowl and a set of utensils. True, they'd have to wash dishes after every meal or snack, but they could survive that.

Next on his mind were hangers. There were no dressers, so everything would have to be hung up, put on a shelf, or left in the duffel bags until they figured that situation out. And maybe they could find a small desk for the kids to take turn using when they needed to do their homework. Although John wasn't sure if it would be used. Sam generally tended to stray to the table with his books and Dean just flopped down wherever he felt comfortable. Perhaps Max would like a desk. Which brought up another thought. The kids needed school supplies. And some school clothes. Gym shoes were needed and backpacks. John rubbed at his forehead as a mild headache threatened to settle in. Maybe he could get an advancement on his paycheck.

The next morning, he woke to the smell of eggs cooking in the kitchen. He scrunched up his nose and shimmied out of his sleeping bag. After their quick and easy unpacking, he and the boys had gone through the house, setting up every protective device they could think of. Max had trailed along behind them, absorbing it all. John had sent them to bed, promising that he'd leave them money to go out for breakfast. He wasn't sure where at that point, but figured they'd find something. So when he stumbled into the kitchen to see the three children preparing a breakfast of pancakes and eggs, he was, needless to say, stunned.

"What on earth?" he managed to get out. Dean glanced up from the pan where he was stirring the scrambled eggs. Max was beside him, anxiously checking on a pancake. Sam was setting the table.

"Hey Dad," Dean smiled. Sam called out his greetings as well, but Max was more worried about her pancake flipping skills.

"Should I flip it?" she asked Dean worriedly. He glanced at the underside of the pancake that she was holding up the edge of.

"Is it brown?" he asked, full of unexpected good humor. She nodded. "Then flip it!"

Dean watched as Max carefully flipped the pancake as best she could with a fork, and then turned to his father. "The Hutterite's were in town, dropping off their eggs at the store," he explained. John nodded, perking up some as he smelled coffee. He ambled over to the stove and Dean, already prepared, handed his father a cup of the steaming brew. "Max woke up early and convinced us to take a walk with her."

"Why didn't you wake me up?" John demanded.

"We wanted to let you sleep," Sam answered simply. John sighed. He knew that he was going to have to lengthen the leash at some point. "Don't worry dad," Sam continued with a wry smile. "Dean was armed."

"Good boy," John grunted and took his coffee to the table. The kitchen was crowded with all four of them in there and even more so at the stove. He watched as Max poured another batch of pancake mix into the pan and carefully set the two she'd retrieved onto a plate warming in the oven. "So how'd you get the pancake mix?"

"Maxie here sweet talked the store manager into letting us set up a charge account at the grocery store," Dean smiled. "Hundred dollar limit, payable at the end of each month or whenever we feel like it."

"Okay," John agreed. He could handle having a credit account at the store.

"Actually," Max leaned back to look at him, "Mrs. Gallagher said that if we prepay them a hundred dollars, they give you a bonus ten dollars."

"That's an idea," John mused. It was certainly an incentive to buy locally, but in small towns, the general store and gas stations were higher priced than in the bigger towns.

"Their prices on basic items, bread, milk eggs, stuff like that was good," Max continued. "But the other stuff is a little expensive."

"So we thought that we'd keep the account for basic stuff and emergencies," Dean finished for her. John smiled. The kids were certainly of a like mind today. It was almost scary. But he certainly appreciated it this day when he was served another cup of coffee and a good fresh meal to start the day.

The days passed comfortably as John got used to his full time job that turned out to be mainly repairing tires. The kids roamed the streets, learning the town, although there wasn't much to see or do. Dean had taken the initiative and started the paperwork for school. The principal understood that John, as a single father, had to work and arranged to be in his office during the lunch hour so that John could come in and sign the final papers to get the kids enrolled in the school. No one batted an eye at Max's forged paperwork.

The last Sunday of August came and John had arranged with the kids to go school supply shopping in the city. They spent an arduous day roaming the city, filling in the list of what they needed. And the next day was their last day of freedom. Tuesday, school began.

Dean and Sam were settled quickly into their twelfth and eighth grades. The secretary took pity on Max and walked her to the fifth grade room. There she was introduced to her teacher, Mrs. Kirkegaard. She was a formidable woman, who towered over her students, with a graying head of hair, swept back into a tight bun at the back of her head. Her eyes were a clear blue that snapped with seeming irritation. She greeted Max quietly, took the papers from the secretary, who bid Max goodbye sweetly, and directed Max to the only available seat at the back of the room.

Max, as she took her seat, was unsure of what to expect. She had only the training rooms of Manticore and her brief sojourn into Lucy's school to go by. They were worlds opposite. In short order, the teacher took attendance and Max busied herself with identifying each child in her class as that child's name was called. She was startled at the end of the list when "Winchester, Maxine!" was called. The old woman knew she was there. Why did she have to ask again? Max wondered if maybe the old woman was senile. But she raised her hand like she'd seen the other children do.

Mrs. Kirkegaard began the school day by outlining their lessons for each day. Composition, reading and writing, followed by mathematics in the morning. Lunchtime followed by social studies and sciences in the afternoon. Four times a week, they would cut their science short for music class or physical education. On Fridays, they would attend the library during their social studies hour, in which they would have computer classes and then if they behaved, would have the privilege of signing out a book or two from the library.

Max learned that the teacher's expectations were high. Her classes traditionally scored well on tests, led the rest of the elementary in fundraising efforts and were the best readers around. Max had no problem at all with that. But when the teacher handed out the first of their class worksheets, found that while the teacher espoused her own efficiency, she didn't seem to appreciate it in her students. At least not to the extent that Max showed.

It took only ten minutes for Max to complete her assignment. Mrs. Kirkegaard, who was walking up and down the aisles to correct students gone wrong, stopped beside Max. "Maxine, please do not sit idly," she chided on an even voice. "Finish your work."

Max twisted around in her seat to look up at the older woman. "I'm already done ma'am," she answered as politely as she could. "And my name is Max."

The teacher leaned over, bracing one hand against the back of Max's chair. "Thank you for telling me that Maxine," she announced primly, her lips thinned at slightly whitish. "However I do not hold with nicknames, abbreviations or any other such shortcuts." She straightened up again and took Max's paper from her. She scanned it over quickly, her thin lips parting slightly in surprise. "Did you excel in composition at your last school?" she asked tightly. Max shrugged. She hadn't had much chance to do a lot of writing at the last school, although she did a lot of writing at Manticore. But she didn't think that writing mission reports counted.

"Please don't shrug Maxine," Mrs. Kirkegaard reprimanded. "When someone asks you a question, the proper thing to do is answer verbally."

"I don't know ma'am," Max answered promptly. "I wasn't there for very long."

"I see," Mrs. Kirkegaard's lips thinned once again. She set the paper back down in front of Max. She continued on her way and Max amused herself with running through the list of children's name alphabetically by last name, and matching the child with the name.

Soon the lessons turned to mathematics and again, Max was ahead of the class. She snorted quietly as she took the paper and looked it over. Simple mathematics of multiplication and division. It took her less time to complete this than it did the writing. But the teacher was sitting at her desk, staring at Max who had finished and folded her hands on top of the desk.

Mrs. Kirkegaard finally gave them leave to attend the lunchroom to eat. Max followed after the rest of the children. Seeing the posted lunch schedules on the wall of the cafeteria area, Max realized that Sam and Dean wouldn't be out until later to eat. Since John had decided that it was just as cheap for them to eat the cafeteria meals, as it was to bring their own lunches, Max followed after the kids joining up the lunch line. This at least she was used to. She gave her name and grade to the lunch lady at the beginning of the line, noting that the woman greeted most children by name. The woman had looked her over, given her a wide smile and marked down Max's first meal in the school. After she'd been given what defined the nutritious meal, Max looked around for a place to sit.

Her heart ached a little. Here and there were her classmates sitting together. It reminded her sharply of her unit back at Manticore. They'd done everything together. Eat, sleep, bathe, and train. There were no secrets from one another and Max wished sharply that even one of them were here with her now. But the feeling was soon shoved to the back of her mind when one of her classmates, Justine Potsma waved her over.

"Sit with me Maxine!" she called. Max grinned and carried her tray to the fold down table. She slid into the end seat across from Justine, balancing her tray until it was settled properly on the table.

"You can call me Max," she offered shyly, wondering if she'd be reprimanded again.

"Okay Max," Justine smiled. The two eyed each other nervously and began eating their meal. After a few moments, Justine began asking questions about where Max was from. And Max very well couldn't answer honestly, so she gave the answers that the Winchester's had cooked up for her. She was from a small town in Kansas. Her mother died this past February. Yes she liked writing and math. She wasn't sure what she thought of their teacher. And her favorite thing to do in the world was read.

In turn she learned that Justine had lived in Geraldine all her life. Her parents had a farm outside of town. She had four older siblings and another one younger than her. Her grandmother took care of the younger children after school sometimes. And her favorite thing in the world was listening to music. Although the children were opposites in some ways, it didn't matter to them and they found common ground to talk about.

That all changed once they reached the playground. In the first recess, Max had watched the other kids playing, unsure where to go and what to do. For most of the time, she'd sat on the swings while she tried to order things in her mind. But this time, recess seemed like such a better prospect now that she had someone to hang out with. But as Justine and Max were trying to decide what they both wanted to do, they were approached by some of the other girls in their class.

Max looked at them one by one. Courtney Kimble had led the trio over and Max could see that she was the undisputed leader of the three girls. Following behind her were Leanne Becker and Misty Patterson. Max almost snorted as she took them in. The girls were copies of each other. They wore everything similarly, from their clothes, to blonde hairstyles, shoes to painted fingernails. But most especially were the supercilious sneers on their faces.

"What are you doing Justine?" Courtney trilled in a falsely pleasant tone of voice.

"Max and I were figuring out what we wanted to do," Justine answered honestly. Max noticed that she seemed extremely pleased to be noticed by Courtney.

"Oh," was Courtney's curt reply. "Wait" she said slowly as she pondered Max's face. "You moved into that dingy little house on Main Street, didn't you?" Before Max could answer, she continued. "My daddy owns that house and decided to rent it out again this year." Max simply nodded once. John had never said who he was renting the house from. Courtney smiled and Max felt like creeping back. The girl looked like she was going to snarl and Max certainly didn't like the feeling that Courtney was closing in on the kill. "It's just filled with cockroaches, you know."

"I haven't seen any," Max stated quietly, trying to figure out what Courtney was really trying to say. The mystery was solved for her when Leanne muttered under her breath.

"Just look in the mirror then," the girl whispered. Max wasn't sure, but she thought that she was meant to overhear that. Leanne and Misty giggled together and Courtney smiled at them. Justine looked uncomfortable.

"So what does your dad do?" Courtney continued, planting one hand on her hip. The other, she held up to inspect.

"He works at the garage on the highway," Max answered. She really didn't like this girl or her little cronies. Courtney nodded in a bored manner.

"And what about your mom?" But before Max could answer, Courtney was talking again. "My mother is a doctor. She commutes between here and Fort Benton. But she volunteers every other week in the clinic. She says it's so important to give back to your community."

Max didn't have an answer for that. And she was starting to lose patience with the girl and her now obvious game of one-ups-manship. But Justine surprisingly tried to come to her defense. "Max's mom died this year."

"Oh that's too bad," Courtney crooned, fake sympathy written all over her face. Max kept her face calm and knew that what Courtney wanted most was a reaction from her. She refused to give it. There was a staring contest between the two girls while Justine, Leanne and Misty twittered nervously around them. Finally defeated, Courtney turned away as imperiously as a ten year old could manage and spoke to Justine.

"Justine, you have to come with us," she demanded. "Mrs. Kirkegaard told me that tomorrow we're going to start choosing our candidates for grade 5 representative. We need to talk about it." She turned back to Max. "Sorry," she said in falsely apologetic tones, "but you wouldn't know anybody that we're going to discuss."

Justine looked back and forth between the two girls, her mind divided. Max realized that she wanted to stick up for Max and stay with her, but the lure of being invited by the popular girls was strong. Max smiled a little and nodded. "Go ahead," she offered magnanimously. "I'll talk to you later." Justine gave her a grateful smile and walked off with Justine and her entourage.

Max retired once more to the swing set and watched with a faintly jealous heart as Justine spent the rest of the lunch recess with the other girls. As soon as the whistle called them in from the playground, Max lined up at the head of the class to go inside. She found that the afternoon went much like the mornings. She knew all the work and finished it so quickly that she was absolutely bored. It was a sweet relief when the final bell rang and class was dismissed.

Max gathered her belongings together and rushed to meet Sam and Dean at the junior high/ high school entrance. The boys, having a shorter distance to walk, were waiting for her. She was happy to see them and all three headed out. They only had two blocks to walk to reach their house and after finding out that none of them had homework, decided to make a brief visit to their father at the garage.

He was pleased to see them and happy to hear them talk about their first day. He knew that Mary would have been pleased to see her boys so easy going, fitting in and enjoying something normal in their lives, even if it was as mundane as schoolwork. He also noticed that Max was fairly quiet. All he garnered out of her was that she did well with the work and did it quickly. She'd met their landlord's daughter, who had warned her about cockroaches and a girl named Justine played with her.

The kids sat around at the garage until it was time for their father to punch out. All four walked back to the house and John made the decision to take the kids out for supper. He wanted to wash up first and after doing so, told them to choose a place to eat. They had little choice. There was the restaurant/bar a few buildings down, or the bar/restaurant one block further. They eventually decided on the restaurant, since it was closed off from the bar adjoining it. Where as the bar had booth seats in the main room. But seeing how this was small town life, no one would object to the kids being in the bar, as long as their father was with them.

They continued their family discussion. Both Sam and Dean had been asked to try out for the football teams. Dean on varsity and Sam on junior varsity. Both were inclined to refuse. Sam because it just wasn't his thing and Dean because he knew there would be times when he couldn't make practice because of their hunts, or caring for Sam and Max. John was of two minds of that. Sam he could understand, but knowing what a small team the high school had, figured that Dean would be needed. But he decided to leave it up to the boy to decide. Talk continued to swirl around after they'd ordered and even as their food was brought. Max ate mostly in silence, but it wasn't noticed since the others were full of what their days had been like.

Days and events continued to march on. The family started to get into the swing of small town life. They attended homecoming, riding in the floats they'd helped their classes build in the parade, while John watched them with pride. They voted for class representatives, even though they had only the vaguest sense of the people they were voting for. They went to the library on Saturday mornings and in general settled in.

Max was finding that where Courtney Kimble led, others followed. After taking Justine away that first day, she'd shown Max that she was the outsider. True, some kids would occasionally buck the system and ask Max to play with them at recess. But usually, unless they were playing on the playground equipment, Max didn't understand their games. Who wanted to pretend to be horses? Who really wanted to talk about making Christmas ornaments to sell during lunch hour? And when Max made suggestions of things to do, like her favorite game, escape and evade, they looked at her as if she were a space alien.

Though Max was finding school to be unpleasant, she knew she was required by law to attend so she made no protest or outcry each day. Soon September passed into October and the kids in her class began getting excited over something called Halloween. Max, not wanting to showcase her ignorance and invite the ridicule of her classmates, looked it up in the library. And what she learned startled her enough to ask John about it at home.

Sam and Dean were shocked to learn that she'd never been trick or treating, had never dressed up in a costume. John explained to the girl that the holiday had evolved into a mass push by the candy industry. Yes, there were supernatural happenings on that day, just like any other. But most people didn't notice a thing. John also informed them that he'd gotten some information about a haunting in the area. They would be going to take care of it the weekend before Halloween, so that no mischief of the evil kind would take place on the All Hallowed Eve.

So with only five days to get through before they went on their fist family hunt since settling In Geraldine, Max was in a pretty good mood when she ran down to the general store to pick up some bread. She'd developed a good relationship with the store owner, Mrs. Gallagher. The older woman's children were all grown and she was a widow. She was impressed by all three of the Winchester children, who always treated her politely and with respect. But she seemed to have a soft spot for the youngest.

Upon arriving in the store, with its tinkling bell to announce arrivals and departures, Max noticed the cart that Mrs. Gallagher used to restock her shelves. She heard a grunt of pain and moved around the corner and saw Mrs. Gallagher clutching her elbow, grimacing in pain.

"Are you okay?" she asked swiftly, moving forward in concern.

Mrs. Gallagher straightened up and looked in surprise at Max. "Oh, I'm all right dear," she smiled, still rubbing at her elbow. "I just pinched a nerve in my shoulder and I can't reach my arm up over waist height."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Max sympathized. She could only imagine how a pinched nerve felt. Probably worse than a nerve deadened from blood loss, like when your foot fell asleep.

"It does make re-stocking hard though," the older woman admitted.

"Can you do anything for it?" Max asked solicitously.

"Oh, I have an appointment with my massage therapist," Mrs. Gallagher admitted. "She's worked on it this last week. Eventually the swelling will go down and I'll be okay. It acts up every few years."

"Can I help you restock?" Max asked, realizing how hard it would be for the woman to accomplish that.

"Oh sweetie," Mrs. Gallagher was slightly taken aback at the innocent offer. She was still impressed by how thoughtful these Winchester children were. It was a rarity among most children these days. "I would love the help." She paused thoughtfully for a moment. "I'll tell you what. I can pay you five dollars an hour."

Max's eyebrows shot up. She hadn't been asking for a job. She just wanted to help the sweet old lady that had helped her. "You don't have to pay me," she protested quietly. Mrs. Gallagher wrapped her good arm around Max's shoulders.

"Oh yes I do," she stated firmly. "I am always a fair-minded woman. If you work for me, then I pay you!" Max giggled a little. Then her face fell.

"I'm supposed to get my dad a loaf of bread," she informed the store owner. Mrs. Gallagher nodded.

"Well, you go ahead and get it and then you can ask your father if it's okay for you to work here," he woman decided. Max nodded happily and ran to get the bread John had wanted. Mrs. Gallagher added it to their tab as Max waved goodbye. The girl ran home and burst in the front door and right into the kitchen, past the startled boys. John just turned an inquisitive eye on her for her strange behavior. Max held the loaf out to him and he took it, set it on the counter and then turned back to her.

"What is it?" he asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. He could see that she was bursting to tell him something.

"Um," Max bit her lip. "Mrs. Gallagher hurt her shoulder and can't restock her shelves. She asked me to ask you if I could work at the store to help her. She said she'd pay me five dollars an hour."

John was impressed how she got all that out in one breath. "How long would she need your help?"

"A few weeks," Max shrugged. "Until her shoulder is better."

John considered it a moment. He'd met Mrs. Gallagher on a few occasions and liked the older woman. She always complimented him on the fine job he was doing raising his kids. A father couldn't help liking a person like that. But he also knew that she employed two other people in the store. He realized that this was more for Max's sake than for Mrs. Gallagher's. "Okay," he said slowly. "Since you always have your schoolwork done, you may work there after school, nothing past five-thirty, since I want you home for supper. Understood?"

Max nodded happily. "Yes sir!"

"You're letting her get a job?" Dean demanded in surprise from the kitchen doorway. John smiled at his eldest son.

"Yes Dean," he answered with a sarcastic tinge. "I'm letting her take a temporary job, helping out an elderly woman who has no one else to turn to." Dean looked a little chagrined. John realized that it wasn't really jealousy that prompted Dean's reaction. He looked at both his boys. "If you boys found a situation like that, I wouldn't mind you making some extra money. But you should all know that schoolwork and hunting have to come first." He included Max in that look. She nodded in understanding. John made a shooing motion and happy again, she raced back to the store to tell Mrs. Gallagher that she could indeed work for her, under certain conditions. It proved to be a good afternoon.

It went slightly sour for Max the next afternoon when Courtney Kimble made her excursion to the store for her daily dose of candy. Upon learning that Max was now working there for an hour a day after school, she had a whole new load of ammunition against the outsider. But Max put up with the not so subtle taunting that came with her after school job, because she really enjoyed working. And meeting people and learning how to organize the bulk of Mrs. Gallagher's world. And when she managed to garner Sam and Dean some jobs doing yard work for the elderly folks that lived in the community still, everyone al around was happy.

The Friday before the Winchester's were heading out ghost hunting, turned out to be a miserable day for Max. Mrs. Gallagher told her the evening before that she wouldn't need her Friday afternoon, since she had a doctor's appointment and her employees, Shannon and Tony, were both scheduled to work and would be able to handle everything. School had been abysmal as well. All the kids could talk about were the Halloween parties they were attending. Justine had tried to invite Max to her house for a sleepover, but Max had been forced to decline. Justine had been giving her the cold shoulder all day. There was an incident at recess. One of the boys in fourth grade had bet Max that she couldn't do a trick on the monkey bars. Unable to pass up showing off just a little, Max had done a handstand across two bars, and held the position for a little over three minutes, when her teacher, on recess duty that week, had come charging over.

After being berated, in front of all the students, Mrs. Kirkegaard had grabbed Max by the ear and marched her off to the class room for another good talking to. After being told that she was irresponsible, a show off and a danger to herself and possibly others, Max really wanted to put her early childhood training to use.

Normally, her hatred was reserved for the good people of Manticore that had created and then tortured her and her siblings. But this old bat was coming closer than any other being under the sun. The rest of Max's day was spent in misery as Mrs. Kirkegaard found the most horrible punishment she could for Max.

Subsequently, when Max arrived home with the boys, who were brimming full of excitement about their weekend hunt, she couldn't find it in herself to match their level of excitement. She went up to her room and lay down to wait until dinner. Through dinner, a quick affair of macaroni and cheese and little hot dogs with green beans on the side, Max was quiet and withdrawn. John wondered what had happened to put her in a funk, but didn't say anything in front of the boys.

When he asked Max to help him wash up after dinner and dismissed the boys to get their homework done before they left the next morning, he asked her carefully what was bothering her. She admitted that Mrs. Gallagher had a doctor's appointment and she wasn't sure if the older lady would need her help any more. John thought he'd reached the crux of the problem, knowing the bond between child and older woman. He tried to reassure her that things wouldn't change that much. She could still help out Mrs. Gallagher in other ways, like helping the boys keep her yard neat. Max simply nodded and continued drying the dishes.

Later that night, Max was unable to sleep. She could hear, with her extra sensitive ears, the not quite snoring rumble that John emitted when he slept. And she wasn't sure about going to him either, when she'd seen how he reacted when one of the children was in trouble. Crazed maniac was how Dean liked to call it. Thinking of Dean and then of Sam, Max found herself thinking of Zack and Ben. Her big brothers were always there at Manticore to help her, no matter if she was scared or couldn't sleep. She wondered if Dean and Sam would be the same. She thought they would, since they'd given every indication that she was one of them now.

Taking the chance, Max slipped out of her sleeping bag and gathered it up in her arms, along wither pillow. She crept out of her room on silent feet and down the hall to Sam and Deans' room. She knocked as quietly as she could. She was surprised when she heard Dean give a sleepy, startled, "what?"

She poked her head into their room. "Dean? You awake?"

In the dark, Dean struggled to identify what was going on. "Max?" He sat up in his sleeping bag, rubbing his eyes. He glanced at Sam, but the younger boy was still asleep. "What's the matter?"

"I can't sleep?" she admitted softly. "Can I sleep in here?"

"Sure thing," he mumbled, the smirked as he realized that she had already brought along her sleep gear. He scooted closer to the wall so that she'd have some room between him and Sam. Max laid her sleeping bag down and climbed in, setting the pillow down and laying her head back. "Okay?" Dean asked and she nodded. "M'night," he mumbled drowsily.

As he waited for Max to drop of to sleep, Dean wondered at her behavior. She hadn't ever come into his and Sam's room before, respecting their privacy in an unusual manner. At least he assumed it was unusual. All the guys he knew talked about what a pain their little siblings wereAnd he could agree somewhat. Sammy could be a pain in the butt when he wanted to. Dean opened one eye to find Max watching him.

"This is where you're supposed to go to sleep," he whispered to her with a smile. Max nodded and then glanced away. Dean was surprised to see a tear glistening at the corner of her eye. He could just barely make it out by the moonlight moving through the room. He sat up, immediately concerned. It was even rarer to see Max in tears. He hadn't seen it since they'd rescued her on the streets and asked her to be part of their family. "What's wrong?" he asked harshly. Max sniffed once and shook her head. He realized that he was being gruff and tried to nullify the concern welling up in his chest. "Max, what happened today?" He knew that something was wrong, since his father had been talking with her earlier.

"Just a bad day," she answered softly and swiftly, but Dean could hear the tension underlying those words. His hand moved to push the hair back from her eyes.

"We all have 'em," he told her philosophically. "What happened?"

So Max proceeded to tell him about her bad day, but when she reached the part about her teacher she paused. She bit her lip and sighed. "I don't think my teacher likes me," she finally admitted to her pseudo brother.

Dean smiled. The kid was too much like Sammy, always wanting the teachers to like them, striving to impress them. "I've had some teachers like that," he told her. "Don't worry about it. Some people just don't like kids. I don't know why so many of them seem to be teachers. But that's just the way it is."

"I know that," Max told him defensively. "But she…"

Dean grew concerned then, seeing that perhaps this problem went deeper than he realized. His voice grew hard as he asked her, "what did she do Max?"

When the girl didn't answer, Sam who'd woken up and listened to his little sister's woes, answered for her. "She grabbed her down off the monkey bars today and yanked her around, then dragged her off back to the school by her ear."

"What!" Dean exploded. His fury mounted quickly. Nobody, but nobody manhandled his family. Especially a little girl who wouldn't fight back. Sam sat up as well, realizing that they were going to be up for a while. Now that he was thinking about it, he could recall the moment with ease. He'd been doing his work, along with the rest of his eighth grade class, when something had caught his attention outside. He could hear from his seat by the window, muffled yelling from outside. He realized that the elementary was on their recess break. Glancing out, he saw the commotion surrounding Max. He took it all in, until Max and her teacher were out of sight. And then his attention had been called back to his work by his teacher.

He'd bent his head back to his paper, but when he looked up again a few minutes later, he saw his teacher, Ms. Fowler standing at the window, staring out with a concerned expression her face. She frowned and tugged thoughtfully at one earlobe before giving a sigh and moving back to her desk. Sam had wondered then if she'd seen what had happened as well.

He told this to his older brother and Dean's face was thoughtful as well. "All the other kids say that Kirkegaard's an old ogre," Sammy finished up with this pronouncement.

"Yeah," he grunted. "The kids in my class have a few other words for her. But that sure as hell doesn't give her the right to be pushing kids around." He looked down at Max. "Has this ever happened before?" She shook her head no.

"Should we tell Dad?" Sam asked, knowing with absolute certainty that John Winchester would blow a fuse. Dean considered and then shook his head in the negative.

"Only if it happens again," he decided. "But until then…" he trailed off, grinning evilly. Sam started to grin as well. Max looked back and forth between them.

"What?" she asked, starting to smile herself. She could almost see the thoughts flying back and forth between them.

"You know what supernatural hunters do to mean old ogre lady teachers?" Dean asked, his voice dripping with amusement. Max's eyes lit up a little and she shook her head again. "You prank them!"

"Yeah!" Sammy agreed enthusiastically. Max giggled.

"Come here," Dean commanded, scooting over so he could wrap an arm around the little girl. She snuggled into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder. He motioned to Sam to scoot closer as well. "This is what we'll do," he began and for the next hour, until they dropped off, the threesome planned what revenge they would exact on the evil teacher, Mrs. Kirkegaard.

John listened with a smile to some of the more evil of Dean's plans. That kid could get crazy and almost psychotic with his pranks when he wanted to. He rolled to his side, hoping that the kids would never realize that their voices carried through the heating duct and filtered right down to his room. He wasn't surprised that they weren't going to tell him about the teacher. They were getting independent in a way that he wanted to encourage. They needed to learn to fend for themselves at some point. And he was absurdly pleased how they rallied for one another. He'd always seen the boys do it and now they were doing it for Max.

He bit his lip to stifle a laugh at Dean's latest suggestion, but his eyes widened when he heard Max's addition. His little girl was just as bloodthirsty as the boys. He shook his head in wonderment and checked his watch. He hoped they'd drop off soon, since they had to make an early start. And to his relief they did. He fell asleep not too long after them, thinking the whole time that Mrs. Gallagher was right. He really did raise a hell of a family.


	9. All Fired Up

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident as the story progresses, but much further down the road.)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Nine

All Fired Up

"Grab us a few cans of soup while you're back there Max!" John called as he hauled the basket of groceries onto the counter. He smiled at Mrs. Gallagher as she began to ring up the purchases. Sam and Dean were lounging at the front of the store, waiting to head home.

"Did you have a good trip?" Mrs. Gallagher asked of John as she keyed the prices onto her till. "Max didn't say where you were going?"

"We just took a camping trip," John answered with a shrug. It seemed a little odd for a cover story, since it was October in Montana, which meant that the winds howled continuously all month long.

'You must be hard core campers then?" Mrs. Gallagher laughed. She glanced up as the door bell rang as another customer stepped through. "Good afternoon Mrs. Kirkegaard." Neither woman noticed the three Winchester's spines stiffen at the mention of that name.

"Good afternoon Molly," Mrs. Kirkegaard returned. She turned to her right to pick up a basket and was confronted by a lanky youth that she barely recognized. He wasn't one of her former students, that much she was sure of. Before she could say anything, he excused himself and stepped out of her way, moving to stand near what she assumed was his older brother. Thinking nothing of the incident, Mrs. Kirkegaard set about to do her shopping.

Max quickly scanned through the group of soup cans presented on the top shelf. She knew them all by heart, since she had stocked this section of the store for Mrs. Gallagher a few times. But she wasn't sure what John and the boys would like. She decided to go with their old favorites of chicken noodle and clam chowder. If they didn't like it, they could pick out something else. She never noticed her teacher staring at her from the end of the aisle in consternation.

Upon arriving home and quickly stowing their gear away, the Winchester's settled down to heating up the clam chowder that Max had picked out and going over their weekend. The hunt had been successful. John had researched well, with Sam's help and knew precisely where to go to find the bones of the vengeful spirit they were banishing. The drive had taken all of the morning and some of the afternoon. Once they'd arrived at the haunted home, they'd confronted the spirit, to make sure it existed. There was a minor scuffle, as the spirit was simply one that tended to throw things around. The murder that had happened was more accidental than wrathful vengeance. Apparently, an old owner of the house got in the way of a flying hearth stone that had struck his temple, causing an inter-cranial bleed that hadn't been attended to in time, resulting in his death. Sam and Max had been caught in the crossfire before John could get them out of there. The spirit, almost as if it had realized that the Winchester's were there to put a stop to its antics, had thrown an armchair across the sitting room. It caught the younger kids from behind as they tried to get out of the way. As a result, Sam's lower back was bruised, while Max sported a bruise across her left ribcage. After retreating from the house, Dean had checked them over, pronouncing them bruised but okay, nothing broken. And then the family had set about finding the old crypt that housed the original owners of the house. It was much easier simply pulling the coffin out of the crypt shelves, than digging it up.

The salting and burning of the old man's (as it turned out) bones was accomplished easily and their job was done. They'd camped out for the night and the next morning, after breakfast at a café, were on their way home. John was happy that they'd had an easy trip. He certainly didn't want the kids to miss school. That simply led to too many questions. But now, as they sat, enjoying the rich creaminess of the comforting soup, they talked over what they could have done differently to prevent the injuries Max and Sam had sustained. They went over with Max, again the importance of not telling people about this. She understood, since the current owners of the haunted house had been in full denial about what was going on in their home, even though they'd lived with firsthand knowledge for almost five months.

The next morning, as she got up and began getting ready for school, Max checked the bruising along her ribs. She'd told Dean not to worry about it the day before, worried that he'd notice how faded the bruise would already be after one night's recovery. It wasn't something she had a ready alibi for, this quickness with which she healed. How could she tell the Winchester males that she was a scientific freak with advanced healing genes built into her system?

She reached for a set of jeans and shimmied into them, trying to decide what shirt she wanted to wear. She still didn't have a lot to choose from, even though her wardrobe had certainly expanded from what she'd started out with. Every few weeks over the summer, she would stop in at a second hand store and add one or two pieces that she liked, sometimes even picking things out for the boys. Whether or not they bought them was up to them. So far she hadn't ever picked out anything for John. She smiled as she chose the first sweatshirt she'd picked out all those months ago. It had a comfortable feeling to it and put her into a great frame of mind.

John was glad to see that the weekend hadn't taken a heavy toll on the kids. He realized that driving around most of the weekend could tire a kid out, but the trio sitting at the table, waiting for him to grab the milk for their cereal, were in fine spirits. Sam was looking forward to driving into town that evening to pick out something to wear for Halloween. Max seemed indifferent, but then complained that they had to dress up for the school party. Dean was teasing them about making them walk around town by themselves, since he didn't want to be seen with little kids. A short tickle fight ensued, with Sam and Max ganging up on their older brother. John put a stop to it by thunking down the milk carton.

"So," he said conversationally as he pulled up his own chair. "We'll all meet at the garage by four."

"And bring the car, don't forget your checkbook and wallet, we'll eat in town," Dean finished for him quickly as he took his turn pouring milk into his cereal. "We got it Dad."

"Just making sure," John grunted, taking the milk from his eldest. The family ate their food at a slightly leisurely pace. John had to be to work the same time the kids had to be to school. So most days they were able to leave the house at the same time. They did so today, with John locking up. Even though they had been living in a small town for a while now, some habits, he wasn't about to break.

The morning started off well for Max. They were beginning a new lesson in math and she was looking forward to having something new to do. She knew that she'd probably still be ahead, but at least it would be slightly more challenging. She occupied herself during composition after she finished her work, by writing a note to Justine telling her an edited version of their weekend camping trip and asking how her friend's weekend went.

She gave Justine the note as they went out for recess. But before she could get Justine's reply, Mrs. Kirkegaard came and found her on the swing set and asked, even more politely and stiffly than usual, if she could talk to Maxine in the classroom. Wondering what fresh new problem she and the teacher were going to have, Max followed her teacher back to class. There, they spent a confusing ten minutes going over Max's weekend. At first she was unsure what the teacher was trying to get at, with mentions of secrets and parents who meant well. Then Mrs. Kirkegaard told her straight out that she had seen Max at the store on Sunday night. The woman stared pointedly as Max inwardly cursed. The old bat must have seen the bruise on her ribs and assumed the worst. At least the worst in her world. So Max just as stubbornly played innocent and stared back at the woman without revealing anything. Hearing the recess bell chime, the woman gave a defeated sigh and told Max to return to her seat.

Max hoped desperately that that was the end of it. But it was to no avail when after lunch, she was called down to the principal's office. And Mrs. Kirkegaard, just like a prison warden was two steps behind her.

Sam had no idea that anything was going on. It wasn't unusual for the secretary to enter the classroom to talk to his teacher for a moment. It was a little less usual that the principal did so. It was kind of weird that they went out to the hallway to talk, but he figured it was none of the class' business. So he was a little surprised when Ms. Fowler came back into the room and asked Sam if he could go on down to the principal's office. Sam shut his books and rose from his seat, a feeling of dread rising up in his gut.

It was the same for Dean. He had no inkling that anything was wrong, much like Sam. But unlike his baby brother, he caught on much quicker. Especially when his science teacher exited the room to talk to the secretary. Mr. Burton glanced directly at him and then shook his head. He listened to the secretary for a moment and then nodded. When he returned to the room, Dean was already packing his stuff up and just nodded when he was told he needed to go to the principals' office. He was out of his seat, making plans as he walked. The first order of business was to find out exactly what the teachers were upset about, though he could hazard a guess and then get his father. Looked like they were about to skip town.

He met Sammy coming down the hall from the opposite direction, just outside the office. He waited until his brother came to his side to whisper quickly, "any idea what's going on?"

Sam shook his head. "Do you think they have Max?" Before Dean could answer, they heard the girl in the inner office belonging to the principal.

"You can't tell Sammy!" she cried out. "He'll get mad at me!"

The brothers exchanged glances and moved together into the outer office. They heard a low voice and assumed the principal was saying something. They walked as quietly as possible to avoid detection for a few minutes. The principal said something else and straining to hear, Dean caught the end of the question. "…what happened?" He cringed, hoping that Max would remember their Dad's lecture from this morning.

"I had a bad dream," Max explained in a quavering voice. "And I didn't want to wake up my dad. He had to work on our car all day and then fix us dinner and he was tired. So… I went into Sammy's room." Dean and Sam shared a wondering glance, trying to figure out where her little story went.

"And what happened?" the principal asked again, his words ringing loud and clear, though eh hadn't raised his voice.

"I climbed onto the bed," Max admitted after a moment, her voice the perfect mixture of relief and consternation. "And Sammy rolled over and hit me in the head. Hard!"

"He hit you in the head?" another voice asked, this one shriller. Both boys recognized Max's teacher. "Not your side?"

"No!" Max denied hotly. "He hit me in the head with his elbow. So I kicked him. In the bum! But you can't tell Sammy! He told me not to go in his room. He'll hate me!" Dean almost burst out laughing at the indignation the little girl managed to muster. He'd heard enough and he grabbed the phone at the desk, there for the use of students and guests.

John was busy with an actual engine repair when a coworker called out that he had a phone call. "Can you take a message Rick?" he called back. "I've just about got this damn thing apart!"

"Yeah hang on," Rick called back. After listening a moment he put the phone to his chest. "It's Dean!" he called again. "Something about one of the kids being hurt." Rick swore then that he'd never seen a person move so fast. John instantly dropped whatever he was doing and was heading for the car parked at the side of the building. Snapping his gaping mouth shut, Rick pulled the phone back up to his face. "Hey Dean, I think your Dad is on his way."

John made it to the school in three minutes flat. He was storming through the hallways, not caring that people were staring at him. He rounded the corner into the office and realized that he needed to calm down, if the startled fearful look of the secretary was anything to go by.

"Sorry," he apologized randomly as he approached the desk. "My son Dean Winchester called me. He said one of the kids was hurt."

The secretary licked at her lips. She knew it wasn't her place to inform Mr. Winchester of what was going on. This matter needed to be handled properly and that was a job for the principal. She nodded and rose from her seat and walked over to knock on the principal's slightly ajar door. She stuck her head inside. "Mr. Thompson, the children's father is here."

"Let him in," Mr. Thompson told her immediately. John didn't wait for her to repeat the message, but slipped into room. He mentally cursed as he took in the situation. The principal was holding Sam's shirt up, looking over the bruising, while Dean hovered, his expression murderous. Max was cowering in the corner. The principal turned to the newcomer. "Mr. Winchester?" he began politely. "Did you know about this?" he asked, gesturing to the line of bruising. John glanced quickly at Dean, whose arms were crossed. The older teen gave his father a quick shake of his head no. So John followed along, playing dumb.

"No, I didn't," he said, trying his best to sound confused. "What happened son?"

Sam turned his head. "I don't know. Remember when I said my back was sore yesterday? I thought I'd just slept on it wrong." John nodded and turned confused eyes back to Thompson. The man shook his head, trying to hide a grin.

"From what your daughter told me, she kicked her brother while he was asleep, because he had hit her in the head," Mr. Thompson related. John turned in Max's direction, but the little girl wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Max is that true?" he asked gently. She took a moment, and then nodded miserably. Sam exploded, yanking his shirt back down.

"See Dad!" he half shouted. "This is why I need a lock on my door! She keeps coming in there without permission." Max jumped up from her chair then.

"Well you keep taking my books!" she yelled back. "And you never give them back. And they're mine, not yours!"

"They're not yours," Sam sneered. "You borrowed them from the library."

"Same difference," Dean interrupted in a tired voice, conveying to the adults that he'd been through this before. "They're Max's responsibility Sammy. You know that."

"Well she deliberately took the book that I was going to check out," Sam tried to defend himself hotly, but John put a hand on his son's shoulder.

"That's enough," John said softly. Sam threw his father a frustrated glance, while Max looked on triumphantly.

"Well, that seems to settle this mystery," Mr. Thompson decided, but before he continue, Mrs. Kirkegaard, who'd been regarding the proceedings suspiciously, spoke up.

"Be that as it may, Mr. Thompson," she began superciliously, "that doesn't explain the bruises I saw on Maxine."

"What bruises?" the entire Winchester family asked in unison. Both Thompson and Kirkegaard looked slightly taken aback at the universal chorus.

"Why the ones across Maxine's ribs," she stated, glaring at John.

"I don't have any bruises," Max denied quickly.

"Yes you do," Mrs. Kirkegaard argued. She reached for the child's shirt and Max danced back away from her. "Now stop lying Maxine," the teacher chided her. Even though John knew that Max was indeed lying, his temper began to flare anew at the old woman's attitude. He was about to speak when the old woman reached out and latched onto Max's arm. "Quit being a troublemaker Maxine Winchester!" the woman half shouted. She nearly got the shirt again as Max tried to twist away from her.

"Let me go!" the child shrieked. John could almost feel his muscles vibrating as he tensed, ready to spring at the woman manhandling the little girl. The vibrations were growing around the room and he realized that Dean and Sam were in exactly the same boat he was, but the thunderous voice of the principal precipitated their actions.

"Mrs. Kirkegaard!" he roared. "Let her go!" The older woman, stunned at the tone of her employer's voice, loosened a fraction and Max squirmed free. The child darted behind her eldest brother.

John and Sam moved to guard the child. Mr. Thompson moved forward and cornered the older woman. "Mrs. Kirkegaard, would you please go wait for me in the teacher's lounge?" The woman looked around at the angry faces, all directed at her and swallowed heavily. She nodded and left the room, her head held high, though it was wobbling suspiciously. Mr. Thompson waited until she'd left the room and the door had clicked shut behind her. He turned back towards John and gestured for him to take a seat, even as he moved around to sit at his desk. He waited until the family had relaxed. Laying his hands on his desk, he leaned forward to address John.

"Mr. Winchester," he began, "Mrs. Kirkegaard came to me this morning with a serious charge. That Max had been abused in some sort of manner. She told me that she had seen bruises on Max's side last evening. Do you know anything about this?"

"No I don't," john denied, even as plans began to formulate in his mind. There wasn't really any way they could avoid this. Max may have been able to outmaneuver them when it came to Sam's bruises, but how could they explain hers. He glanced at the little girl and she winked up at him. He wasn't sure if he felt better or not. The only thing he could think of was that he needed to get his family out of there before the Department of Children and Family services was called in.

Mr. Thompson turned to Max. "Young lady, do you have a bruise on your side?" Max shook her head no. "Can you show me?" She shook her head more vehemently. Dean took that opportunity to jump in.

"She doesn't trust strangers Mr. Thompson," he defended hotly. He rested one hand on his sister's shoulder. Mr. Thompson looked down at the girl's bowed head and then to John for explanation.

"Her mother died this past February," John started, going off the story they'd concocted. "Since I wasn't there to take custody of her immediately, and there was no one else, they had to put her with a foster family. It wasn't a good situation."

Understanding dawned on the principal's face and his tone softened considerably when he spoke again to Max. "All right Max. I can understand that. But we need to make sure that you are okay now. Could you talk to the school nurse, just to let us know for sure that you aren't hurt?" Max appeared indecisive and Thompson pressed on. "Mrs. Kirkegaard has made a serious allegation about your family. We need to know the truth so that we can take care of you in the best way possible."

John's heart began to sink when Max looked up and nodded. They were in for it now. The nurse was sure to see the bruises. Mr. Thompson spared John a sympathetic glance and then rose from his desk to take Max from the room and down the hall to the nurse's office. As soon as they were gone, Dean and Sam both began to speak at once.

"We've got to go Dad," Dean huffed.

"There's no way she'll miss Max's bruise," Sam chimed in.

"How are we going to explain it?" Dean demanded, thinking rapidly, just as John was doing.

"She fell off Sammy's bed after she kicked him?" he asked of his sons. Dean shook his head.

"She would have included that in her story," he reasoned out.

"Maybe something on our camping trip?" Sam wondered. "Maybe she fell when we were hiking?"

"Shh!" John hushed quickly, hearing returning footsteps. "Just say nothing for now."

Mr. Thompson returned and gave the males a tight smile. "She's talking to Mrs. Shaw right now." He resumed his seat and shook his head tiredly. "I remember when my kids were that age," he smiled, gesturing at Sam. "They fought like cats and dogs." John nodded cautiously but the principal said nothing more. The silence stretched out between them, growing more uncomfortable by the second. Finally, Max and the nurse returned to the room. The nurse stood in the doorway and smiled broadly at the Winchester's. She then gestured for Mr. Thompson to join her. He did so quickly, again shutting the door behind himself.

"Someone's going to get fired!" Max sing-songed quietly. As one, the Winchester males turned to Max. She smiled conspiratorially at them and raised the hem of her sweatshirt. All three of their eyes bugged a little at the smooth, unbruised expanse of her skin. "I heal fast," she giggled softly.

"Oh man," Dean sighed as he moved forward to touch her rib. He knew that there had been one hell of a bruise there two days before. She flinched a little and he glanced up at her face. "You okay?"

"My ribs still hurt," she whispered back, pushing her shirt back down. "But I didn't tell her that. Besides, she just looked, didn't touch."

John nodded as relief flooded through him. A massive mess and inquisition had been averted by the girl he was really starting to regard as a daughter. Mr. Thompson chose that moment to return and he looked al business. The pose he assumed this time was quite authoritative and John stiffened up his spine.

"Mr. Winchester, I will tell you in confidence," he paused to include the kids in his stare, meaning that they should keep silent about this, "that this is not the first time we've had trouble with Mrs. Kirkegaard. We've had complaints from students, parents and other colleagues about her behavior. Ms. Fowler informed me of an incident she witnessed this past Friday on the playground regarding your daughter. And what I saw in this office has convinced me that I can not allow Mrs. Kirkegaard to continue teaching in my school." John nodded. The principal turned then to regard Max.

"Miss Winchester," he spoke softly, leaning towards her. "you did the right thing in not allowing Mrs. Kirkegaard to manhandle you. It is something that we completely discourage at our school. I want you to know though, that if anyone at anytime ever tries that again, you need to tell someone immediately." He gestured at her family. "Your family, me, the nurse. We're all here to make sure that your okay and protect you." Max widened her eyes and nodded slowly. "Okay," Mr. Thompson turned back to John.

"Mr. Winchester, we're going to have to cal a special school board meeting to discuss how this situation is going to be handled. If you would like to attend, that can certainly be arranged." He would have gone on, but John forestalled him.

"I think you've got matters well in hand," he complimented the other man softly. "You've assured me that this will be dealt with."

"Well there is the question of you pressing charges on your daughter's behalf," Mr. Thompson said quietly. John was startled. He never even thought about that. But he shook his head. That sort of thing would garner unwanted attention on his family. He needed to keep them below the radar.

"She didn't really hurt me," Max protested. Se turned to John. "I don't think she has anything else to do but teach. If she can't do that…"

"That'll be punishment enough," john concluded for her. In unison, they turned back to Mr. Thompson. He looked relieved beyond belief.

"All right," he sighed and stood up. John followed and they shook hands. He turned to the boys. "It's getting late enough that school will be over. Why don't you children collect your bags and quit early. You have special permission for today only."

"Yes sir!" Sam and Dean responded with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

"And I'd better get busy finding a substitute teacher for your class," Mr. Thompson said to Max. She smiled and nodded and then followed her father out the door, calling her goodbye, just like the rest of them.

Leo Thompson watched the Winchester's walk out of the office and followed behind to watch them walk towards the high school to retrieve Dean's books first. John had one arm around the girl and was laughing at something she'd said. She wrapped an arm around her father's waist and thanked her Daddy. He sighed. It was rare that one found a tightly knit, fiercely protective family such as the Winchester's. He'd had some suspicions confirmed this afternoon about how that bond had been formed and he knew that not many people would be willing to pay that price.


	10. A Regular Little Geneius

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident as the story progresses, but much further down the road.)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Ten

A Regular Little Gene-ius

"Uh Dad," Dean waited until his father had put down his fork and gave his son full attention before setting the slip of paper on the table. They were eating a late dinner; since the garage had been open late to accommodate a fleet of semi's that had come through needing servicing. He hadn't even gotten a chance to look the paper over before Max and Sam were following suit with their own slips of paper.

"What's this?" John asked guardedly as he took Dean's slip.

"Parent teacher conferences," Dean snorted. John sighed. Just what he'd been looking forward to.

"Ms. Fowler said that the sooner you get them in, the more likely you are to get the time that you want," Sam explained. John nodded, reading that exact information on Dean's paper. It also mentioned that if you had more than one child, you just filled out the slip of the youngest child, including the names of your other children and their teachers. That way the school could co-ordinate as best as they were able.

Feeling that it was just best to get it over with, John pushed his plate away and pulled the pen that he kept in his shirt pocket out. He contemplated for a moment, and then selected the three last slots of the evening. He dutifully wrote down the three kids names and looked to his children for confirmation of their teacher's names. He knew that the Fowler woman was Sam's teacher. And Dean indicated that his homeroom teacher of Mrs. Armstrong was all they needed. John turned to Max and she informed him that he could just put down Mrs. D'Amato, their substitute teacher. That accomplished, John slid the paper over to Max and the child folded it carefully and rose to put it into her backpack.

"Make sure you give that to your teacher first thing in the morning," he told Max. She nodded. "If we don't get those times, I'm not sure I'll be able to make it," John shrugged.

"I'll tell her," Max promised. She returned to the table and the matter was settled.

A few days later, Max had another slip of paper for John, listing the times and rooms to attend each separate conference. "Mrs. D'Amato asked me to make sure that you made it," Max confessed in worried tones. "She said she had something important to talk to you about."

John was a little startled. As far as he knew, Max was doing exceptionally well in school and was having very few problems, aside from the popularity business that the boys had noticed. As in, their landlord's daughter was trying to lord thing over the Winchester family. It bothered them not at all, recognizing the girl for what she was.

"Is it bad news?" John demanded harshly. Max shrugged and bit her lip.

"I don't know," she admitted. "She didn't look mad or anything."

"Well, I guess we'll find out when we find out," John tried to soothe the girl.

The evening of parent teacher conferences coincided with Election Day. But that didn't bother John. He hadn't resided in the county long enough to be eligible to vote there. So he was able to remain at the garage until closing time, not needing to leave to vote. But still, he had to race home to clean up. He told the kids to save him a plate of dinner and he'd eat it when he got home. He made it to the school for the first conference with a few minutes to spare. He used that time to locate Mrs. Armstrong's room. She was in the hall as he approached, smiling in greeting. She ushered him into the room and proceeded to tell him how pleased she was with Dean's performance to date. The only problem as she saw it was that when it came to certain portions of his schoolwork, Dean was content to do the bare minimum allowed and leave it at that. It was a similar refrain to John. All of Dean's school career, teachers had been lamenting that Dean had so much potential, if only he'd apply himself. John promised Mrs. Armstrong that he'd talk to Dean about the importance of all the subjects he was enrolled in, but as he left, he pretty much forgot the matter. Dean was probably as tired of hearing that little speech as John was of giving it.

It was the same with Ms. Fowler. She gushed over Sammy's natural book smarts. Cited that he tended to be a little on the shy side, which was completely natural for his age. John didn't have to promise anything about Sam though. Shyness wasn't something you could lecture out of a kid.

As John walked back towards the elementary side of the school though, he began to get a small tinge of dread in his stomach. Max was the question child. She was smart in both a book and a street style. John had witnessed firsthand though, how readily lies dripped off her tongue when needed. He was pretty sure that she didn't lie outright to him, but he also knew that there were secrets about herself that she kept and guarded fiercely.

He knocked at the doorframe of the fifth grade classroom. A woman with plain brown hair, glasses hiding eyes of an indeterminate color, looking to be in her mid to late thirties rose from behind the desk. She came towards him a wide smile on her face. "Mr. Winchester?" she asked in a softly cultured voice. John recognized immediately that she wasn't native to this area.

"Yes," he nodded, shifting the two folders he'd received from the other teachers to his left hand. They contained the sampling of papers and tests that the teachers had chosen to present to the parents. He held out his hand and she took it, shaking it quickly and firmly. She dropped her hand to her side and the other came up to gesture to the desk she'd drawn up to her own.

"Please have a seat," she offered. She moved some other papers out of her way, then clasped her hands and leaned forward. She waited until John was settled before she began. "Just to let you know, I have mostly good news to report about Max and the bad isn't bad per se."

"Okay," John smiled. "You've piqued my interest."

The woman smiled back. "Well, my first order of business," she began, "is to inform you that the school board has asked me to continue as fifth grade teacher. A little move up from substitute."

John nodded again. He knew how hard it was to find teachers in small towns and knew that the board had probably jumped at keeping her around. He knew that Max liked her. "Congratulations," he murmured.

"Thank you," Mrs. D'Amato responded automatically, though she seemed to be pleased with the job she was offered. "To quickly fill you in, I do have a few years experience in elementary scholastics. Mainly fourth and fifth grades. I took some time off from teaching to raise my two children. Once they entered kindergarten, I returned to school to work on getting my credentials for teaching junior high and high school courses." John tiled his head to the side. He didn't worry too much. He knew she would have to have credentials to hold the position as an actual teacher versus a substitute. In Montana, a substitute teacher didn't require completed college credentials. Only full-time teachers did.

"And that leads me to the first bit of good news," Mrs. D'Amato continued, a faint trace of a very amused grin in her mouth. "You see, I'm still taking night courses at the college. While the children were working on an assignment, I was going over a bit of my own work. Your daughter just happened to turn in her sheet, and correct one of my mistakes." She waited for the news to sink in.

John sat up a little straighter. "You mean she knew…?"

"Yes," Mrs. D'Amato grinned. "Max correctly solved a college level mathematical equation with no help from me, a calculator or even a pencil and paper."

"But…" John was mystified. He had no idea that the girl could do anything like that. He knew she was an excellent math student. The constant stream of papers she brought home, all marked with 100 proved that. The teacher then pulled a paper from the file at her elbow. She slid it across the desk to John. He took it, the numbers swimming around the sheet before his confused eyes.

"This was a test administered to the twelfth grade class last week," Mrs. D'Amato explained. "You might have seen one in Dean's folder?" She paused to make sure she had the boy's name correct. But John didn't gainsay her. "The seniors are allotted forty minutes to complete this test." She paused for dramatic effect. "Max completed it in twelve minutes." John's eyes widened and his jaw dropped slightly. Mrs. D'Amato leaned forward again. "In fact, if she hadn't had to take the time to write out the calculations, as required on the exam, I think she would have been done sooner. And again, she did it without benefit of a calculator."

"But she…" John just had no words. Mrs. D'Amato gave him a few moments to collect himself.

"I take it you had no idea?" Mrs. D'Amato queried carefully. John shook his head in the negative. "Max told me that her mother died earlier this year. I'm sorry." John nodded and dropped his eyes to his lap. It was hard pretending a depth of feeling that he just didn't have for this fictitious, to a degree, person. "She also told me that you were unaware of her until the Kansas Child Welfare department was able to get ahold of you."

"That's right," John agreed. He saw that she was about to ask more questions and knew that he had to nip that in the bud. "When the boys and I got to her, she was really in a state of shock. It was all we could do to even get her to say two words." Mrs. D'Amato nodded sympathetically. "She still doesn't like to talk about her life with her mother."

"I understand," Mrs. D'Amato sighed. "But in this case, perhaps Max is starting to feel comfortable enough with her new family, that she's able to express her natural mental capabilities. In other words, she feels that it's okay to be smart."

"Well, I certainly have encouraged her in her schoolwork," John informed the woman. "It always comes first with the kids."

"Glad to hear it," Mrs. D'Amato murmured wryly. "I'm sure you can see that your acceptance of her, well, her genius, is an important factor to her well-being and development."

"Genius?" John demanded in surprise. Somehow his mind just hadn't gotten to that level yet.

"Perhaps," Mrs. D'Amato nodded. "Of course, we'd have to run more tests, to make sure. But Max certainly excels in most areas of the curriculum."

"Where is she lacking?" John demanded.

"Not lacking," Mrs. D'Amato clarified. "It's only in composition that she is uneven. She has an amazing vocabulary for someone her age, but she needs to work on sentence structures and identifying basic grammar concepts. She reads at a university level."

"I'll be damned," John finally whistled as he leaned back in his chair.

"This is where the bad comes in," Mrs. D'Amato edged into the conversation. John perked up his interest. "The reason I feel that this could be bad for Max is because the level of her intelligence has led to some minor troubles, both academically and socially."

"How so?"

"Well, as you know, Mrs. Kirkegaard had labeled Max as a troublemaker?" She didn't need to see John nod his head to know that he was aware of the whole situation there. Mrs. D'Amato was a little more in the dark, only having been told that the previous teacher was retiring early. "I think that stemmed from Max's ability to finish her work so quickly. It gave her too much free time with nothing to occupy herself."

"I can see how that would be a problem," John conceded.

"Since I realized what was going on, I have allowed Max to use that free time reading from my private library, or working on some extra papers," Mrs. D'Amato explained. "It also causes a rift between her and the other children. Her life experiences and outlook are different. Defined by the knowledge and information she stores in her mind that the other children haven't reached, and won't for another seven to eleven years."

"So basically she acts too much like an adult and not enough like a little kid," John surmised. The teacher nodded. "So what can we do about that?"

"Nothing much I'm afraid," Mrs. D'Amato sighed. "Sometimes these things have to resolve on their own.

The two continued to talk about Max's development and finally, when their time was up, Mrs. D'Amato asked permission to further test Max. John replied thoughtfully that he'd talk it over with Max and let them know right away.

That evening was quite the revelation to him. He never considered that Max's intelligence was at the level her teacher believed it to be. But knowing now what a unique little girl she was turning out to be, he should have expected it.

When he returned home, he told all three children that he was happy with what he'd been told. They returned to their activities as he sat down to his solitary dinner. But as the children were getting ready for bed, John knocked on the door to Max's room. After a moment, she opened the door to see John standing there.

"Maxie, there's something I was told tonight that I'd like to talk to you about," he informed her as gently as he could. "In private." Her eyes widened a little fearful, but she stepped back and he entered the room. He shut the door behind him and lounged against the door. Max stood, waiting for the boom to lower. With a smile, John told her about Mrs. D'Amato springing her IQ level on him. She looked chagrined, but a little pleased with herself. He didn't bother to ask why she hadn't informed them of how smart she was, because he could see that that was not a conversation starter. He then informed her that Mrs. D'Amato wanted to test her further.

"Do I have to?" Max asked warily. Indeed, she already knew what those tests were like, since Manticore had administered them with regularity.

"You don't have to," John conceded easily and truthfully. "But it would make it easier for them to decide what to teach you, if they don't have to wade through what you already know. Plus, you would be learning new things and you wouldn't get so bored at school."

"That's true, I suppose," Max gave in. She thought it over for a moment. "Okay," she grudgingly agreed.

"All right," John stood up straight. "I'll write a note for your teacher and you can give it to her tomorrow."

"You have to give your permission?" Maw asked curiously. John shrugged.

"Apparently so."

Max's testing was a lot easier than she expected it to be. In Manticore, testing was a full blown operation that fell into a few different categories. They tested your mind, both the knowledge you already had and then your ability to problem solve. They tested you physically, to make sure that your endurance was up. They tested your health, to make sure that the genetics encoded were doing their job. And then there were the last tests, the ones that Max despised. It all came under the heading of psy-ops to her. Psychiatric operations and evaluations. Max never knew what to expect when she walked into that wing. That combined with the few things she did know about what went on behind those steel doors was enough to give her nightmares. It was almost as bad as the dreams of the basement of Manticore and the nomlies that lived there.

But in the real world, testing was a lot easier. Mrs. D'Amato would hand her a sheet of paper, tell her how much time she had to complete it and then leave her to it. She went through five cycles of tests and after the second, realized that the tests were end of year for ninth through twelfth grade. And then on into college level material.

She pretty much aced those. Then she was sent to the school counselor, who administered IQ tests. Again these were nothing new to Max. Manticore had them as well. After those, Max wondered if they'd get around to testing her endurance, but aside from her gym class, it never happened. And once she was done those tests, it was just a matter of waiting for the results. Within a few days of completing the tests, the teacher sent another note home. But this time, Max was privy to the contents.

She got home to find that John and the boys were preparing supper already. Max had been down to the store and had been helping out Mrs. Gallagher, whose shoulder still wasn't fully recovered. Max waited for John to wipe off his hands, before handing him the note.

"In trouble again Maxie?" Dean asked and then tsked. Max threw him a grin.

"Only if I listen to you," she quipped back. John hushed them and opened up the note. He scanned the contents quickly and let out a brief whistle. He folded the paper and slipped it into his shirt pocket.

"Tell your teacher I'll call the school tomorrow during my lunch break," he informed Max. She nodded her head and then went to wash up.

"How'd she do?" Sam asked, trying not to let the little tendril of jealousy he was feeling creep into his voice.

"Really well," John answered shortly, turning his attention back to the simmering from a jar spaghetti sauce on the stove.

"Ooh, looks like you're not the smarty pants around here anymore," Dean teased. Sam simply threw his older brother a glare.

"Dean," John said quietly, prompting his eldest to hold his tongue, for now. John took a taste of the sauce, and then set the spoon to rest on the counter. He turned to his youngest son. "Sam, suck it up." The boy's eyes widened in surprise. "I'll tell you something," John continued, including both boys in his hard stare. "In this life, you're always gonna find someone who is better than you are at something. Whether it's school, hunting, whatever. So just do the best you can and don't let the rest of the crap weigh you down."

"Well, at least I'm smarter than Dean," Sam sighed, throwing his brother a smirk this time. Dean just casually flipped him off behind their father's back.

"And he's better at other stuff than you are," John huffed.

"Yeah Sammy," Dean jeered. "Like everything else under the sun."

"Don't be so sure of that," John murmured. There were a lot of things in this world that his boys hadn't experienced yet. And he certainly had enough of the constant one-upmanship they engaged in now.

"Is supper ready?" Max asked genially when she returned to the kitchen. She'd heard the conversation while she was down the hall in the bathroom, but paid no mind do it. She knew that Sammy was proud of his intelligence, but she hoped that he realized that nothing could take that away from him. John nodded in response to her question as he brought the food over to the table. Sam helped him while Dean got something for them to drink from the refrigerator.

As promised, John called the school and spoke to Leo Thompson about setting up another conference. Now that they had Max's IQ and test results back, they wanted to discuss them with her father. John and Max came to the school that evening where Leo and Mrs. D'Amato were waiting for them. Initially, the teachers had wanted to talk with just John, but he felt that Max needed to have some input. After all, she was the one who was going to have to do as they told her. He wanted to make sure though that she wasn't going to be forced into anything she didn't want.

After the initial pleasantries were over and the group was seated at the conference table in the teacher's lounge, Mrs. D'Amato got down to business. "So Mr. Winchester, you've seen Max's scores."

"Yes," he agreed mildly. There was no reason to go over them again, since everyone at the table was aware of them.

"Well, we've thought up a few options for Max," she continued, smiling at the girl. Max found herself smiling back easily. "The first is that Max could actually take her GED. She certainly has the knowledge for it."

"Really?" John was surprised. Again, he wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was because he was so used to taking things one step at a time. Certainly in some situations he liked to plan ahead or have a contingency plan. But when it came to the more mundane things in life, he was content to ride things out.

"A general equivalency diploma is rated the same as a high school diploma," Leo explained. "I know that it seems like a lot of employers look down on that. But it loses the stigma when accompanied by other credentials."

"What do you mean 'other credentials'?" John asked suspiciously.

"College degrees," Leo clarified with a small smile. "I'm sure that there are many fine schools that would accept Maxine into their next semester. Some even with a full scholarship." John could feel the protest rising up in his throat and looking at Max, could see the same instinct in her.

"But that's only if Max wanted to go to college," Mrs. D'Amato interjected. She too could see the sudden panic on the young girl's face. And after the inferences she'd made from her and John's conversation previously, she thought that separating the girl from her family so soon could be extremely damaging to the girl. She had shared those feelings with the principal and they had agreed to address that later in the conversation. But Leo had wanted to put the option out there anyway. "There are two other options. The first would be more difficult than the second."

"What do you mean?" John asked, slightly irritable. He always hated it when people talked about things without explaining the details.

"Sorry," the woman apologized sheepishly. She realized that she had gotten ahead of herself. "I should have explained that I was talking about home schooling." She paused to take in John's reaction to that. He just waited for her to go on. "In the last few years, there has been a push towards this by more… mainstream parents. Many different cultures practice it in one form or another. In the United States, though, it has the… stigma I want to say, of only being used by weirdly religious people." She glanced at Max and then bit her lip. "Of course that isn't really true." She was gratified to see Max nod.

"Home schooling simply offers a more convenient way and form of teaching some children," Leo interrupted. "The teacher, usually the parent, can choose the curriculum that will most benefit their child and can mold the school day to fit around the family's activities and needs."

"It sounds good," John put up his hand to get them to stop trying to convince him. He already knew his answer. "Unfortunately it wouldn't work. I have a full time job and there isn't anyone else to do it." Both Mr. Thompson and Mrs. D'Amato were nodding.

"We're certainly aware of that," Mrs. D'Amato agreed. "That's why we feel that the third option might be the best one." Both John and Max waited. "We'd like to put Max into some ninth grade classes. Mathematics, computers and social studies."

"Why ninth grade?" Max asked suddenly, confused. "I scored well in the twelfth grade exams, didn't I?"

"You did Max?" her teacher confirmed.

"The problem is," Mr. Thompson interjected, "is that if you continue public schooling, and then you are required to earn a set number of credits in each subject before you are eligible to get your diploma. You have to go through the whole system. You can't just skip to the head of the line."

Max nodded and then fired out her next question. "So why not all the subjects? Why just those?"

"Well," Mrs. D'Amato fielded this one, "as I told your father, I have found that you still need to cover some material in your composition and social studies work. And then there's also the fact that I think you need to have friends your own age. It would be hard to keep them if you never see them." Her smile softened the words and Max thought about not being able to play with Justine or the other kids. It was a rare event, but she had come to find that just letting loose and being a real kid was okay.

"But won't it be weird?" she persisted in asking, "for me to be there only some of the time?"

Mrs. D'Amato smiled and rubbed at Max's shoulder that was near her. "I think you should just worry about trying to do what's best for you and let those others kids worry about themselves." Max mulled this over quickly and then nodded.

"So that's what you want to do?" John asked his daughter directly. Max nodded again at once.

"Yes sir," she confirmed. At that point, anything would be better than the constant boredom she'd endured under the tutelage of Mrs. Kirkegaard.

"All right then," Mr. Thompson said as he pulled out a few file folders. He began to peruse the contents, making some notations on an empty schedule. Max recognized the fifth grade schedule, since Mrs. D'Amato hadn't seen fit to make any changes yet. "I think, if you can let Max go early from her morning class, she can make it to Mr. Janowski's math class," he murmured absently. "And she'll be a few minutes late for gym, but that shouldn't be a problem. And ninth grade computers at the same time as fifth, but a different room." He glanced up as he finished writing. He set the sheet he'd just filled in on the center of the table. "What do you think?" he asked of Mrs. D'Amato.

The teacher pulled the sheet towards herself and nodded. "We'll have to talk to Mrs. Shank and let her know about the gym classes." Everyone nodded and Mrs. D'Amato slid the paper to Max and John. Max picked it up and John glanced at it from her side.

"I'll have to figure out where the ninth graders are in their classes," Max murmured thoughtfully, then looked up. "Do I start these classes right away?"

Her teacher shook her head. "No. You're right that you'll need to go through the material they've covered up to date. But with your smarts, it shouldn't take you too long."

"Should we say week after next?" Mr. Thompson decided. "That's when math and science are starting their next chapters and course of studies."

"That sounds like a good idea," John commented. "That will give Max plenty of time to play catch up without overexerting herself."

"I wouldn't overexert myself," Max protested in indignation.

"Perhaps not," Mrs. D'Amato smiled. "But we certainly don't want you to burnout your enthusiasm for learning by doing too much of it in such a short period."

Max lowered her eyes and tried to contain a snort. It wasn't like she hadn't already learned this stuff. All she would be doing was reviewing and familiarizing herself with the course material. But she was happy enough with what the teacher and principal offered. "Okay," she conceded. There were smiles, but she noticed then that a tenseness had come over Mr. Thompson and Mrs. D'Amato's faces. They kept sneaking glances at each other and then at John. She glanced at John, but he seemed as clueless as she was. She realized that they wanted to talk to her father, without her there. She wondered if she should call them on it, or just give in gracefully. Calling them on it, there was a good chance that they would clam up even more. If she gave in, then there was the chance that John would tell her what they spoke of. And even if he didn't, Max could always eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Will you please excuse me?" she asked politely as she stood up. The trio nodded, looking a little startled. "I need to go to the bathroom," she murmured as innocently as she could muster. She headed out of the room and walked a ways down the hall. Her instant return trip was much more silent and she stood listening at the door while the grown-ups spoke hurriedly.

"There was something else we wanted to talk to you about Mr. Winchester," Mr. Thompson spoke in hushed tones.

"What's that?" her father demanded, his voice equally quiet.

"Beverly informed me of what you had discussed during your conference with her," Mr. Thompson began. "I understand that Max has suffered a number of shocks and displacements this year. Some of them quite traumatic."

"She has," John conceded. It certainly wasn't a secret anymore.

"We were wondering," Mrs. D'Amato had broken in, "if Max has been to see a psychiatrist or a family counselor?"

Max could hear the wariness in John's voice as he answered cautiously. "No, she hasn't."

"I thought so," Mrs. D'Amato ruminated aloud.

"When our elementary school counselor administered Max's tests, she thought it might be a good opportunity to talk to your daughter about the events of this year, or anything else she might want to talk about," Mr. Thompson seemed to broach the topic carefully, "Max proved to be very recalcitrant. Of course we understand why that is."

"But now that she's beginning to relax somewhat, and as we discussed before, let herself be a normal kid again, it may be a good idea for her to talk to someone."

Max wondered if John was beginning to feel tag-teamed.

"I don't know about that," John began quickly. He was on the defensive as soon as the topic had been brought up. "Max doesn't like doctors and I'm pretty sure she doesn't like psychiatrists." Max had to bite back a cynical laugh. John really didn't know how deep her mistrust and hatred of certain doctors and their ilk that she despised, ran.

"It's just a suggestion," Mrs. D'Amato soothed him. "We just feel that it would benefit Max to be able to talk to someone with whom she feels safe."

"Well," John seemed to calm a little bit, "she certainly enjoys talking to Mrs. Gallagher."

"Molly Gallagher?" Mr. Thompson clarified. Then he laughed. "I know a lot of people who like talking to Molly, me included. And you can't deny that she's certainly the queen of discretion and confidentiality."

"Oh really?" John's interest was piqued.

"There's no finer woman than Molly Gallagher in this town," Mr. Thompson stated unequivocally. "If Max feels comfortable talking to her, then that woman will take Max's secrets to the grave. But on the other hand, if she feels that Max is doing something that compromises her own well-being, she's on it quicker than a dog on a cat."

"I think what Leo is trying to say," Mrs. D'Amato drawled, "is that Mrs. Gallagher is a trustworthy person.

"Well, she isn't a certified counselor," Mr. Thompson chuckled, "but she certainly has enough life experience to offer good solid advice to anyone who asks." There was a pause and the man became serious once more. "But if you ever do feel that Max needs someone with clinical experience, we'll certainly provide you with information about getting some help."

"Thank you," John said with relief. "I appreciate that." And he did, in ways neither of the teachers realized. He'd been afraid from the get-go of this topic, that they'd be requiring Max to undergo psychiatric testing and then getting the rest of the family in on it as well. And that was a headache they certainly didn't need. He once again found himself feeling almost blessed that he'd chosen this small town. In so many other places, they'd just thrust his family into a system that barely survived, let alone functioned as it was supposed to.

At that point, the three of them heard Max's footsteps returning. Being the polite child that she was, she knocked on the door and waited for someone to call out a welcome before she re-entered the room. She took in the smiling faces and the three adults stood up. John shook first Mrs. D'Amato's then Mr. Thompson's hand. He skirted around the table as the group made their farewells.

As he and Max left the building, heading for the car, John wondered how to broach the subject that they'd just been discussing. But Max beat him to the punch.

"They want me to talk to the counselor, don't they?" she demanded bluntly. But her voice held no rancor.

"You were eavesdropping?" John demanded, amused. He shook his head. "Yes, they do."

"What did you say?" Max asked quietly. They had reached the car and John unlocked the doors. True, it was only a short drive home, but it was also evening and John preferred driving over walking in the dark.

"That it's up to you," he answered truthfully. Max nodded her head. Not one lie had passed his lips and she was satisfied.


	11. Critical Cravings

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident as the story progresses, but much further down the road.)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Eleven

Critical Cravings

"Can you shut the fridge door please Max?" John sighed tiredly. He was standing at the stove, stirring the rapidly cooking eggs. The girl had shuffled downstairs and had gone immediately to the large appliance. John could hear Dean and Sam moving around upstairs and knew that the scent of cooking food would bring them downstairs. He glanced at Max again, but she was still scouring the contents of the refrigerator. "Max!" he barked sharply at her. She straightened up and swung the door shut.

"Do we have any milk?" she asked in a quiet voice. John shook his head after glancing at the now empty carton.

"I used the last of it for the eggs," he explained. Just then the toast popped up from the old four piece toaster that he'd picked up at the goodwill store. "Can you get that for me?"

"Yes sir," Max replied, her voice still quiet. John grabbed a plate from the counter and began to spoon the cooked eggs onto it. He was absorbed in what he was doing, not noticing really how slowly the girl was moving. He set the plate on the table and turned back to remove the warming sausages from the oven. He added that to the table and then returned for the coffee and juice. By then, his boys had tromped down the stairs and were attacking the table as if they were starving hellhounds.

"Wait for Max," John growled. The boys glanced up and saw Max bringing over the plate piled high with buttered toast. She set it down by John's elbow and slid into the last available chair. John took two slices of toast and then nudged the plate her way. Max stared at it dully before taking a slice. John moved the plate to his other side, to let Sam get some, trading the eggs for the toast. He spooned some onto his plate and then held it out for Max. The girl dutifully took the plate, but simply set it down beside her silverware.

"You okay Max?" Sam asked, watching her intently, as the other males were. She shrugged. "You better eat before Dean inhales everything."

"Look at your own plate Sammy boy," Dean returned as he poured himself some coffee.

"I'm not really hungry," Max sighed. Silverware clattered as three sets of eyes began to bore holes in her.

"Uh oh," Dean snorted, picking up his fork again. "There's something wrong in the world if Maxie isn't eating." John silenced him with a glance, before turning to the girl.

"Are you sick?" he asked with a measure of patience that the children rarely saw in him. Max shook her head no. "Tired?" She shrugged. "What is it?"

"Just feeling kind of… blah," she tried to explain. She wasn't sure what was bothering her. She'd just woken up and hadn't wanted to get up. Then she'd gotten thirsty, but they were out of milk. She wondered if she was a little dehydrated. That could account for feeling yucky. So she straightened up and reached for the orange juice, pouring herself a generous glass. She had gulped down over half of it before she noticed that the men were still staring at her. "Thirsty," she mumbled.

John grinned for a moment, and then turned serious again. "Maybe you're coming down with something," he theorized, then sighed. "I hope not."

"Me too," Max grimaced. "I'm starting my new classes tomorrow."

"Maybe you're feeling nervous about it," Sam pointed out reasonably. Max shook her head and then picked up her piece of toast to nibble on the edge.

"Well, whatever it is, it will happen or it won't," John decided. "Eat what you can and then lay down for a while." Max nodded and that was the end of the subject.

The next morning, Max was feeling slightly worse than she had the day before. She woke up just as thirsty as she had been the morning previous. They hadn't been able to pick up anything at the store, since Mrs. Gallagher was gone to spend the weekend with her closest children and grandchildren. She'd given her two employees the Sunday off.

Max slaked her thirst with a huge glass of water, and then followed it with more juice. She was tempted to drink it all, but knew that Dean and Sam might want some. The thought of eating breakfast was repugnant to her and she wondered if John was right and she was coming down with something. The scary thought was that she had no idea what it could be, since Manticore had made her immune to bio-warfare agents. That still meant that she could get the flu or a cold, or another common virus. It was just that the genetics in her body were able to produce such a high level of anti-bodied white blood cells that she fought things off much quicker than the average human. So while she could get sick, it didn't happen all that often.

Max returned to her room and dressed, wondering if she'd feel better when she got to school. She managed to duck John's concern and forced down some oatmeal. It was like lead in her stomach. She finished first and was waiting at the door for Sam and Dean so that they could walk to school together. They dropped her off first, since the elementary end of the school was closer to the house than the high school was.

Mrs. D'Amato, who, like John, noticed that Max didn't seem up to par, shrugged it off as jitters over her new classes. But when it was time for Max to leave for Mr. Janowski's math class, the girl seemed eager.

As Max made her way quickly to the assigned room, she felt a tremor shudder through the very tips of her fingers. She stopped in mid-stride and stared down at the betraying hand. It was steady and she blinked slowly, telling herself that she had imagined it. It was because she was tired, she told herself. Sam and everyone were right. She was just nervous about joining yet another group of new faces. She forced herself to continue on.

She joined the throng of ninth graders as they milled into Mr. Janowski's room. Some of them glanced curiously at her. They'd all been told already that Max would be joining them for some classes. Most didn't care one way or another. Max hung back to see how things were going to unfold. She wasn't surprised when the only available seat turned out to be the one in the front center of the room. She eased herself into it and set her books in front of her. She turned to the page of the new chapter they were beginning and waited for the teacher to start.

He welcomed Max to the class and then took an impromptu roll call so that Max could begin to get to know her new classmates. It was much more laid back than her own class and most of the kids offered her a friendly wave. She smiled back shyly and the teacher ploughed on, determined not to place too much emphasis on this new development.

Max's stomach was starting to growl around eleven thirty. She was just glad it wasn't the only one. Since the school's cafeteria was so small, the classes were released for lunch in staggered order. The kindergarten, first and second graders were let out at 11:30. Ten minutes later, the rest of the elementary were released. Ten minutes after that and it was the junior high kids. And lastly, at noon, the high school was released to eat. It was strange, but it worked, especially when many of the students who brought lunch ate outside in warm weather, or went home for lunch. So Max, who was used to eating now every school day at 11:40, had to wait for lunch.

That was strange to her as well. As a Manticore soldier, she could go for days without food. But this morning, she wanted to get to the lunch room more than anything in the world. Her mouth felt like a roll of cotton had been stuffed in it and she was having trouble sitting up straight. But finally, at long last the bell rang. Max slammed her book shut and raced out the door. She heard laughter behind her, but she didn't care. She was the first of her class to arrive at the lunch line, mostly because she hadn't stopped to put her books in the locker that was assigned to her. She used the books to balance the tray, since she'd determinedly _not_ noticed the tremor settling into her whole hand.

She hadn't even gotten two steps past the end of the line before she was tearing open her milk and gulping it down. She finished it and pitched it into the garbage can. She turned back, wondering if they'd let her have another. They would, but it would cost her fifty cents, she remembered. But she didn't have fifty cents on her. With a sigh, she carried her tray to a partially empty table. With a smile, she realized that Sam was sitting there, talking with another boy. Max halted beside her brother and he glanced up in surprise.

"Hey Max," he grinned, then turned back to continue talking with the kid. Max knew she should wait for them to finish, but she couldn't wait.

"Sam," she interrupted her voice low and slightly tremulous. Apparently Sam heard it too and turned back to her. "Do you have some money?"

"No," he shook his head.

"Oh," Max was disappointed. She glanced around, wondering what she could do, and then brightened up a bit. "Maybe Dean has some. Can I leave my tray here?"

Sam nodded his head, but stalled her. "Dean doesn't have any. He spent the last of his money on that tape he wanted."

"Oh shoot," Max frowned. She stood beside her brother, wondering who else she could hit up for some change.

"What do you need it for?" Sam demanded. It was rare to see Max so agitated.

"Milk," she supplied shortly. Sam snorted.

"Here," he grunted, snatching his as yet unopened milk from his tray. "Take mine."

Max grabbed eagerly at the little carton and was about to rip it open and gulp it down. But Sam, who was beginning to squirm at his sister's embarrassing behavior yanked on her sleeve.

"Sit down," he hissed. He turned back to his friend and rolled his eyes as Max took a seat. Jeremy, seated across from Sam, grinned and nodded. He had a younger brother who acted weird ninety-nine percent of the time. The only time the kid wasn't cuckoo was when he was asleep. So he understood perfectly.

Max gulped down every last drop she could garner from the carton before she plunked it down on the table. She swung her legs around, not caring that Sam was inching away from her. She gazed down at the unappetizing form of her lunch. "Bleh. Meatloaf," she complained. That got a laugh from Jeremy. "I wish it was turkey loaf," she sighed as she dragged her fork through the mashed potatoes.

"Dude," Jeremy sputtered. "Why? Turkey loaf sucks. It is so gross!"

Max glanced up at the boy and then looked at Sam, who was beginning to go a little red around his ears. She grinned a bit, realizing that she was actually the cause of his irrational embarrassment. "It doesn't have to be turkey loaf," she shrugged one shoulder. "Any turkey would do."

"Well it isn't turkey," Sam complained. "So just shut up and eat it."

Max tried a bite of the meatloaf and barely contained a small shudder. She threw her fork down and made to rise from her seat. "I'm gonna go see if they have any turkey," she declared. Sam groaned and grabbed her hand, but before the protest left his lips, his eyes widened in alarm.

"Max!" he exclaimed. "You're burning up."

"What?" Max asked, distracted. Sam stood quickly and rested the back of his hand against her forehead.

"You've got a fever," he told her. He glanced back at Jeremy. "Watch my food, will you? I'll be right back."

"Where are we going?" Max asked as he began to drag her out of the lunchroom.

"You're going to the nurse," Sam declared. He felt Max trying to tug her hand out of his, but he tightened his grip. "Don't freak out," he muttered. "All she'll do is take your temperature, call dad and send you home." Max relaxed marginally once he'd said this and she followed rather docilely behind her brother.

They entered the office, startling the secretary, who was eating her lunch at her desk. Before she could ask what was wrong, since her mouth was full, Sam informed her that his sister was sick. The secretary nodded and waved them back to the nurse's office. Sam knocked on the door, still not letting loose of Max. Knowing how she felt about doctors, he was sure she'd bolt.

The nurse answered and let them in. Sam told her about Max's fever and she gestured for Max to take a seat on the little cot. Max did as she was bid, suddenly finding herself drained of energy. The nurse let out a little exclamation of surprise at how high the temperature was. She asked Max how she was feeling and Max admitted that she felt a little off and was a bit dehydrated. The nurse let out a knowing clucking of her tongue, stuck the thermometer in Max's mouth and went to call John.

The telephone conversation was short. John had asked his boss for the afternoon off, but wasn't able to get accommodation. He asked the nurse if it would be all right for Dean to take her home and stay with her until he could make it home. The nurse, feeling that this was better for Max, rather than staying in her cramped office all afternoon, agreed to it. She sent Sam off to find Dean and bring him back to her office.

While Sam was occupied doing that, the nurse ran a wash cloth under some cool water and told Max that she was going to lay it across her neck. Max asked what medical purpose that had and the nurse had laughed, saying that it just plain felt good. But the nurse was in for another surprise when she swept aside Max's hair and was confronted with several black lines of varying thickness.

Rolling her eyes about the fads and dares these kids these days fooled around with, she swiped at the black lines. But she was startled and confused when the lines didn't even smudge. "Max?" she questioned softly. Max, who was indeed comforted by the cool cloth, hadn't even given thought to the back of her neck. She murmured something and the nurse tried again. "Max? What's this on the back of your neck? It isn't marker ink." Max's head snapped up. Her barcode! She cursed herself for letting herself forget to guard it. All these months and no one knew, but one moment of indulgence and the nurse was freaking out. "Is it a tattoo?" the nurse demanded, running her finger over the lines etched into her skin. Max shivered, from fear and from the nurses soft touch.

The nurse recognized Max's reluctance to talk and laid the cloth against her skin. She moved around so that she could squat in front of the child. "Max? Who did that to you?"

Max was unable to meet her eyes. She knew the woman must think that it was something an insane person did to her. And she knew she had to disabuse a certain notion immediately, because the first suspect would be John. "My stepfather," she offered in a tiny voice. "When I was really little. He was sick. He was schizophrenic."

The nurse, knowing what she did of Max and her 'past', said nothing else. She just stroked Max's hair and turned the cloth over so that it stayed cool against her feverish skin. It amazed her that the tattoo was so even. If done, as Max said, when she was a toddler or a baby, then as she had grown, the lines should have skewed as the skin stretched. But all the lines, while of varying thickness, were uniformly straight. Odd, but it reminded her of a barcode.

Dean had just gotten through the lunch line, found a seat and was about to take the first unappetizing bite of meatloaf, when he heard his name being called. He recognized Sam's voice immediately, but the tone behind it was harder to decipher. It wasn't panic. But neither was it a simple acknowledgment from his little brother. "What's the matter Sammy?" he demanded as his brother neared. He shoveled a forkful of food into his mouth and waited for the kid to speak.

"Max is sick," Sam said simply. Truthfully, they'd been sort of expecting this since yesterday morning. "I think she's got the flu."

"Well, 'tis the season," Dean snorted. "What'm I supposed to do about it?"

"You have to take her home," Sam informed him with a superior air. "Come on." He began to walk away. Dean swallowed his mouthful and looked mournfully at his meal. But then he brightened. If he had to take Max home, then he could get into his stash of potato chips. He stood and carried the tray to the garbage. He caught up to Sam quickly, though the younger man was still getting growth spurts. If he kept it up, he'd be taller than Dean in no time.

"How come Dad can't get her?" he demanded softly. Sam shrugged. "Probably couldn't get time off," Dean answered himself. Sam stood by the office door, feeling that his job was finished.

"Tell Max I'll get her homework for her," he informed his elder brother. Then a grin lit his face. "Do you want me to get yours too?"

"Oh I suppose," Dean groaned. Trust the brainiac to think of schoolwork at a time like this. "But make sure you get your butt home immediately after school. I'm not playing nursemaid all afternoon."

"Whatever dude," Sam snorted and then headed back to his cold lunch.

Dean entered the office and waltzed right past the secretary. He didn't even glance at her and she wasn't fussed about it. She had a good idea why Dean Winchester was there. Dean knocked once on the nurse's office door. She called him in.

Dean was extremely surprised, given Max's dislike of doctors, to see the girl relaxed, leaning forward, while the woman applied something to the back of her neck. "So what's up?" he asked genially.

"Max is sick," the nurse informed him. He grimaced at her statement of obviousness. "Your father couldn't get away immediately and asked if you could take your sister home and stay with her until he arrived home."

"No problem," he shrugged. Perhaps he wasn't so mistaken about Max's fears, since the moment he had agreed, she shot off the bed and out the door. "Lot of energy for someone with the flu," Dean muttered suspiciously, shaking his head. "Max! Wait up!" He turned back to the nurse. "Anything I should do?"

"Just rest, liquids and some acetaminophen for the fever," the nurse instructed, even as she handed him an instruction sheet.

"The usual then," Dean confirmed. "Thanks. I better go chase her down." The nurse smiled faintly and Dean left to find Max waiting impatiently in the doorway of the office. Her stance was so similar to what Sam's had been a few minutes before that Dean wanted to laugh.

"Can we go?" she demanded pertly. Dean nodded.

"We have to get our coats first," he reminded her. His locker was closer and he grabbed his stuff quickly. On their way to Max's locker by her fifth grade room, they passed Mrs. D'Amato in the hall. Dean's short explanation was met with sympathy for the sick girl and a promise to get her homework together from all her classes. Dean told her to give it to Sam and the younger boy would bring it home.

Once home, Dean was trying to decide whether to make a bed for Max on the sofa, so she'd be nearer to the bathroom, or to let her rest in her room as she seemed to want. He questioned her closely on her need to hurl. All he could see was that aside from her fever and thirst, she wasn't all that sick yet. But schools were paranoid sometimes. Dean understood. They didn't want everyone else getting sick. But they just didn't realize that by the time symptoms showed up, the person had already been sick and spreading virus germs for a while.

Max solved the dilemma by simply climbing up the steps and going into her room. Dean followed after and watched as Max climbed into her bed that John had picked up at a garage sale. She said nothing, simply pulled her blankets up and shut her eyes. Dean grinned, hoping that this babysitting job would be so easy. Hoped that Max would sleep her sick days away and he wouldn't be called on to do a thing. He knew that he'd never be so lucky, but that didn't stop his wish.

It was a few hours later that Dean, lounging on the couch, eating his chips and laughing at the afternoon talk shows, heard something from upstairs. His first thought was that Max hadn't slept as long as he had thought that she would. His second thought was that he probably should check on her. He brushed the chip crumbs from his lap and shut off the television with the remote. He climbed the stairs quickly and carefully poked his head into her room. If she was still sleeping, he didn't want to disturb her.

But that wasn't the case. Dean let out a soft sigh of frustration. The girl was shivering in her bed, under her covers. Dean knew that the house was warm. He figured it to be a reaction to the flu. "Hey Max," he said softly as he came further into the room. The girl rolled over to look up at him, her eyes miserable. "I'll get you another blanket and some tea, okay?" Max nodded. It seemed that was all she had strength for. Dean spun around and exited the room. He stopped at the bedroom that he and Sam shared to snag the extra army blanket that he kept. It was scratchy as hell, but it was warm. He returned to Max's room, dismayed to see that the shivering had intensified.

"M-milk?" she questioned weakly. Dean tucked the blanket around her.

"I think we're still out," he replied. "Don't worry, Dad will bring some home."

Max didn't respond. Dean, getting slightly worried about her sudden listlessness, hurried downstairs to brew her tea and get the acetaminophen. As he waited, seemingly forever for the old teakettle to boil, Dean wondered if maybe he shouldn't call his father. This was worse than when he or Sammy were sick. It was funny though, their father never seemed to succumb to anything. Sure he got sick, but he never seemed to let it slow him down.

Finally the kettle began to issue forth it's roils of steam and Dean poured a healthy measure of water into the mug, over the teabag. Handling the heated ceramic carefully in one hand, the pills in the other, he began a slow trek up to Max's room. Slowness however, was forgotten when Dean heard the crash from Max's room. He dashed up the last few steps, leaving the mug at the top of the stair as he ran on into her room.

"Son of a bitch!" he yelled as he took in the moment. His little sister was curled up into a ball, shaking. Hell, the entire bed was rattling, banging against the wall with the strength of the seizure tearing through her. He dashed to her side, a little panic beginning to settle in. This was bad. Extremely bad. "Max? Max!"

"D-don't!" she cried, her teeth rattling in her head. Dean fell to his knees, dropping the pills, his hands hovering above her shoulders uselessly. He didn't know what to do. All his first aid training went out the window at seeing this tiny girl in pain. "D-don't l-let me d-die," she whispered.

Dean's heart constricted, becoming leaden in his chest. He nodded once, and then ran from the room. He flew down the stairs, taking them three at a time. As he rounded the curve into the kitchen, his hand scrabbled for the cordless telephone, placed strategically on the wall. He dialed 911 with shaking hands and gulped in a few breaths to calm himself.

"9-1-1," a cool feminine voice answered after two rings. "What is your emergency?"

"This is Dean Winchester, in Geraldine" he half-shouted, relief pouring through him that he had contact with someone who could help him. "My sister is having a seizure."

"What is your address?" the operator continued. As Dean began to run up the steps again, he could hear her keyboard clicking in the background. He reeled it off and there was a slight pause.

"Are you sending the ambulance?" he demanded, moving back into Max's room.

"I'm sorry sir," the voice replied, sounding regretful indeed. "The Geraldine ambulance is out on another call. One moment." There was a click and Dean almost thought that she'd hung upon him, but he could hear a hum in the background and a low murmur of voices.

Max was still shaking violently and Dean started to recall his first aid training. He eased Max to the floor, so that she wouldn't fall from the bed. He checked to make sure that her clothes weren't too tight around her throat.

"Dean?" the operator called.

"Yeah?"

"The Fort Benton ambulance is on its way. They're thirty minutes out," the operator informed him. "There is also a Quick Response Unit still in the area. They've been alerted and are twenty minutes out. How long has she been seizing?"

"A couple minutes," Dean replied, and then swore. Help was too far away.

"Are there any other symptoms?" again the voice was cool and collected.

"She's got the flu," Dean supplied with a grunt.

"How old?"

"She's ten," Dean replied, frustration welling up in his mind.

"Does she have a fever?"

"Yes, over 101 degrees," Dean recalled from the nurses information. Of course, he hadn't checked it since then. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. He felt something against his leg and looked down to see Max's hand uncurling and then curling again. He slipped his hand down into hers, wincing at how tight her grip was.

"Calm down Dean," the operator tried to soothe him. He felt like swearing at her. She wasn't the one who had to sit and watch a little girl seizing so hard that she was shaking everything around her. "Seizures can be common in children when they experience high fevers," she continued.

"That doesn't exactly help me right now, does it?" Dean snapped. The voice didn't respond, even though Dean would have liked her to. He was scared for Max and he needed an outlet.

He heard another noise in the house, the door slamming. Pulling the phone away from his ear, he checked his watch. It was just after three. School was out and Sammy was home. He heard his brother shuffling around downstairs. "Sam!" he yelled. Feet pounded up the stairs. "Sam! Get Dad! Tell him to bring the car."

Sam burst into Max's room, terrified at what he was going to find. His brother and sister were on the floor and the little girl was shaking worse than a leafy tree in a hurricane. He had no words, just shook his head and ran back out of the room.

"Sir! Dean!" the operator's voice sounded urgent now. "Dean, you need to wait for the QRU."

"We can't," he barked at her.

"Dean, she might get worse," the operator warned, but Dean was past that worry. The quicker they got her help, the better it would be.

"Tell the ambulance we'll be driving a black '67 Chevy Impala. We'll meet them en route," he informed her, then hung up. He threw the phone on the empty bed and then pulled loose a blanket. He picked Max up and wrapped the blanket around her shaking form as best he could. "Come on sweetie," he smiled shakily. "Let's go get you some help."

"P-please," Max moaned, shaking her head. "N-no!"

"Yes," he countered authoritatively. She struggled weakly, but Dean was persistent. He moved carefully down the steps, and heard Sammy come back into the house.

"He's coming Dean," Sammy panted from his spot at the foot of the stairs. "He was already on his way."

"Good," Dean grunted.

John pulled up to the house and parked quickly. He'd caught a glimpse of Sam dashing into the house. He was mildly peeved at the boy for running around without his coat on. His sister was already sick. John didn't need to have Sammy getting sick because he was behaving foolishly. He grabbed up the small bag of produce and the gallon of milk he'd stopped at the store to get and began to climb out of the driver's seat.

But as he straightened up, he saw a sight that made his heart drop to his toes. Dean was carrying a blanket wrapped Max out of the house while Sammy shut the door behind them. The look on his eldest son's face was what scared him the most. He ran towards them, not even bothering to shut the car door.

"What is it?" he demanded. "What's wrong?"

"She's having a seizure," Dean explained, panting with fear and adrenaline. "The ambulance is on the way, but we have to meet them."

John didn't question what his son. He dropped the groceries and held out his arms. "Give her to me. You drive."

But as Dean moved to give his sister to his father, not even questioning his order, the little girl scrambled from his arms. "Max!" he felt horrified that he'd dropped her. But she landed on her feet, and then fell to her knees. John was stooping over to pick her up.

"No!" she shouted as she scrambled towards the groceries.

John stared at her in confusion as Max's trembling fingers, pushing aside the thick blanket and grabbing at the jug of milk. He dropped to one knee to haul her up again but she slapped his hand away. She snagged the milk and managed, by luck it seemed, to tear off the small perforated ring of plastic. Once the lid was off, Max hefted the gallon jug and began chugging it like a frat boy at an all night kegger. As soon as she paused for breath, John reached to take the milk away.

"Come on Max," he told her quickly. But she shook her head in the negative. "We have to meet the ambulance."

"No!" she shouted. John let out a low, frustrated growl.

"Max, no arguments!" he barked at her. "This is too serious."

"I-I'm okay," she managed to shudder out before she began drinking milk again. John watched as the trembling in her hands lessened and she was able to better handle her drink. John sighed. He didn't want to give in on this point. He didn't like being terrified for his children. But he had to remind himself that Max technically wasn't his blood child. Looking into her eyes, he knew with certain conviction, that if he forced the issue, she'd run.

"Fine," he grunted, moving forward to pick her up, milk, blanket and all. "But when the ambulance gets here, let them check you out."

"C-cold," Max whispered. Dean, right beside his father as they made their way back into the house, tugged the blanket up over her shoulder. "Uh uh, the milk."

"It's supposed to be cold," Sam smiled shakily. "But I could warm some up for you." Max nodded and let him take the jug from her. He hurried ahead, leaving the door open behind him. Dean gathered up the bag, seeing that his father had stopped to get home flu remedies. He entered the house last and shut the door behind him.

They waited in silence for the ambulance to arrive. Dean had already called back the operator and told her to tell the ambulance that they were waiting at the house. She complied and he hung up. Sam had heated up a mug of milk, which Max was savoring for all she was worth. And surprisingly, it did seem to help. Dean made a joke about Max getting an entire gallon of milk to herself, since she'd contaminated it with flu germs, at which she smiled. She was still huddled in her blanket, working on a second cup of milk, with Dean right beside her to steady the cup if needed, when the QRU and ambulance showed up.

John let them in and told them what had transpired. Dean threw in a comment or two, while Sammy stayed quiet and just watched with eagle eyes, what was going on. Dean took the milk from Max and helped her sit up so that the paramedics could assess her. But aside from the fever and slight trembling, there were no other symptoms. They told John that high fevers, such as Max had could easily cause seizures in younger children. Apparently, because it had happened to her, Max still fell into that category.

The paramedics continued their exam, but could find no other problems. Max was becoming acutely uncomfortable under the prolonged exercise in, what to her mind, was futility. They recommended taking her to the hospital for more tests. All three Winchesters could see the tantrum coming and moved to head it off before it started. John pulled them away from his daughter to explain about her hospital phobia, while Dean simply wrapped his arms around her. Sammy took a seat next to them and leaned into her, projecting a unified front against these strangers.

As John was telling them the little bits and pieces that made up Max's fake history, a knock came at the door. With a frustrated grunt, he moved to open it, still talking. He was surprised by a middle age, good looking, well groomed lady, standing on his doorstep.

"Can I help you?" he asked shortly, his tone gruff.

"Mr. Winchester?" the woman asked. She stuck out her hand without waiting for confirmation. John stared at it. "I'm Dr. Kimble, Wyatt's wife," she said gently. The prompt was enough. She was their landlord's wife. She put her hand down when he didn't take it. "I was on my way home and saw the ambulance. I just thought I'd check and make sure everyone was okay."

"Dr. Kimble," the older paramedic called. "Glad you're here." Dr. Kimble glanced up at John and then stepped into the house. John sighed and waited for her to move so he could close the door. This whole thing was starting to turn into a cluster fuck.

"What's the situation?" the doctor asked of the ambulance crew.

"Got a ten year old with seizures," he told her quickly, and then ran down the list of vital information, such as her temperature and blood pressure and that surprisingly; the seizure had resolved itself without the application of anti-seizure meds.

"How long has it been since the seizure ended?" she asked of John. He checked his watch.

"About half an hour."

"Okay," Dr. Kimble smiled softly. She moved over to Max and the boys and knelt on the floor in front of her. "Hi Max. I'm Dr. Kimble."

"Courtney's mom," Max clarified and the woman nodded. "I'm okay. I don't have to go to the hospital."

"Don't like them, huh?" the woman asked. Max nodded vigorously. "Sometimes I don't either and I have to work there." Max willed herself to smile, but she couldn't quite pull it off. There was something about the woman that just screamed to Max that she was trying too hard. Suddenly Max understood very well where Courtney got her condescending attitude. "Can I ask you a few questions?" Again Max nodded. "Max, have you ever had seizures before?" There was a pause and a small nod. "And did you go see a doctor about them with your mom or dad?"

"My mom," she admitted tersely. Dr. Kimble didn't look dismayed, as she had garnered a few things about the girl from her own daughter's comments about the Winchester family. And from some gossip that had managed to slip through the cracks. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't escape at least some gossip in a small town.

"And do you remember what the doctor said about it?" she probed further. Max nodded again, shrinking back slightly. "What was that?"

"That it's a rare condition," she mumbled. Dr. Kimble, like all the rest, strained forward to hear her. "It's not epilepsy. The serotonin levels in my brain drop below normal and my brain starts to short circuit." Dr. Kimble nodded. That was an adequate description of what happened with seizures.

"Oh!" Sam exclaimed, sitting upright. Everyone glanced at him. "Tryptophan!" he proclaimed triumphantly. He realized that he was getting weird looks from the majority of the room and sought to explain. "Max was craving milk and turkey today. The stuff that has tryptophan in it. It makes you sleepy and relaxes you."

"And evens out the level of serotonin in the brain apparently," Dr. Kimble smiled. She glanced up at John. "Hasn't she been drinking her milk lately?"

"We ran out yesterday," he explained helplessly. Surely that didn't make him a bad father. Especially when he didn't know about Max's seizures.

"But you didn't know about this?" Dr. Kimble asked, gesturing vaguely at Max. John shook his head slowly. Dr. Kimble's eyes began to harden just a little bit.

"Momma didn't tell him," Max spoke softly, her voice tremulous. All eyes turned back to her. "And then she died."

"Why didn't you tell me?" John demanded, his voice just as soft. No one but the Winchester boys could tell just how dangerous their father's mood was. John definitely did not like being kept in the dark, especially about things that put people's lives in danger. But Max it seemed, was catching on quickly to John's mood. She cringed back from him and ducked her head down. John took a deep breath, reminding himself that there were other people present and he needed to keep a lid on his anger.

"I thought you wouldn't want to keep me," Max mumbled, her voice unsteady. "Mom said that you wouldn't want a defective daughter."

That took the wind out of John's indignant sails immediately. There was no real truth to that statement. Since of course, Max wasn't his daughter and she never knew her mother. But somewhere along the line, she had gotten the idea that she wasn't good enough, not like other children were.

"Max," Dean protested gently, when his father stayed silent. "We'll always want you. Who's the one who helps me annoy Sammy all the time?"

"And who's the only other genius in the family that actually understands what I'm talking about?" Sammy interjected, smirking at his brother over Max's head.

"And who's the one that's so darn cute, every waitress gives her free cookies, which a certain person shares with her adorable older brother?" Dean rambled.

"And with Dean too," Sammy joked. He stuck his tongue out at his older brother and Dean reached around Max to punch him lightly on the arm.

"I think what the boys are trying to say Maxie," John finally spoke as he knelt down in front of the girl, "is that we'd die before we gave you up. You're with us now and that's all that matters."

If the EMT's and Dr. Kimble thought that there was anything strange about the situation, it was quickly dispelled by that touching scene. They backed off and waited for the group hug to finish. As soon as John was back on his feet the doctor pulled him aside. She told him that in her professional opinion, he should get a hold of Max's previous hospital records or the doctor that had treated her so they could find out more about her condition. Barring that, he needed to take her to the hospital for a complete neurological examination. And it was her opinion that even though she didn't believe that Max had had a real seizure this time, since seizures didn't resolve on their own and go away completely like Max was claiming hers did, he should keep some tryptophan, in pill form, on hand in case she ever experienced another seizure. When asked, she told him that drug stores and health stores generally carried the natural supplement.

Once John shooed the unwanted company from his home, he waited until all vehicles had left. He'd signed the refusal of care sheet that the paramedic had supplied to him, promised the slightly aggravating and smug Dr. Kimble that he'd take care of matters and waited for them to drive away. Once all three vehicles passed from his sight, he turned back to the trio on the couch.

"All right Max," he growled, intently serious once again. "Is there anything else we need to know about?"

She squirmed under his gaze, knowing that he was angry and upset about this incident. While it hadn't harmed him or his sons, she had been in serious trouble and had brought unwelcome attention on their family. That was a serious breach with this group.

"Well?"

Max could feel Dean's arm tense around her and Sammy wasn't leaning against her anymore. They could feel the impending explosion as well. She wondered if she dared tell them the truth. It wasn't like they weren't used to weird stuff anyways. And they had accepted her as one of their own. They wouldn't betray her.

"There's…it's…" she tried to tell them, not knowing exactly how to put it.

"Just spit it out," Dean smiled down at her. She glanced up at him, grateful for the modicum of understanding in his eyes.

"What if I told you that I was a genetically revved up female?" she questioned them seriously.

John stared at the girl. It took him a moment to put her words into some semblance of orderly thought. He understood each word individually, but put together he had to think a moment. She was saying that someone had messed with her genes? But that wasn't possible. Or was it? Maybe she'd gone through genetic consultation and gene therapy for some other disorder. That was what he wanted to know. Was there a likelihood that she'd be sick for some other reason?

"No," John shook his head, discounting what she'd just tried to tell him. "I mean medical wise. Is this it for surprises?"

"What?" Max stared at the man, confused. She'd just told him the truth about herself, not in so many words, and he was just brushing it aside. "No. I mean yes. Just the seizures." At least she prayed that was all that was wrong with her.

"How would you be revved up genetically?" Sam demanded, his mind whirring with thoughts. "Scientists are only now starting to understand human DNA and how to manipulate it."

Max could see that this was going to throw them all into a big mess, so she pasted a huge grin on her face. "Boy, can't take a joke, can you?"


	12. Birthday Blues

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident as the story progresses, but much further down the road.)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

A/N: I just reworked this chapter after seeing that both Dean and Sam's birthday's are earlier in the year. I like to stay with canon as much as possible, so that error has been corrected.

When It Changes

Chapter Twelve

Birthday Blues

"Thank you again Mrs. Gallagher," John called as he herded his family down the porch steps of Molly's home. The woman stood in the doorway and waved them off. The children nodded to her, unable to wave since their arms were loaded down with gifts and leftover food from the Christmas feast the older woman had prepared.

"Take care John," she called. "I'll see you later Max."

Max, waiting at the car, jumped into the back seat as soon as Dean was able to juggle the dishes in his hands to unlock the door. She took from him his packages and he moved back to help Sam in. Once everyone had finally made it into the car, she wondered if she should bring up the trip that the men had just been on. All three Winchester males were in a good mood. They were sated from the meal, in good humor about the gifts they had exchanged and surprised by the insightfulness of Molly's individual gifts to each of them.

Quietly, she decided to broach things. Naturally nothing could have been said in front of Molly. And since Max had stayed with her while the males were away, and they'd only arrived back to Geraldine this morning, there hadn't been a chance to talk.

"How was the trip?" she asked softly. She watched for their reactions. John just glanced up in the rearview mirror and then back out the windshield to the street. Dean rubbed at his eyes and Sam smiled ruefully.

"It wasn't a complete disaster," Sam finally answered.

"You got the ghost, didn't you?" Max demanded. There were nods all around. "So what was the problem?"

"There was no problem," John declared.

"Except for getting lost, running into a bunch of soldier wannabes, getting kicked out of our motel room and having to sleep in the car in the middle of winter," Dean muttered under his breath, sounding extremely put out. Max chuckled lightly, the picture of it entering her mind as Dean had quickly rolled off his list of complaints.

"Yeah," Sam concurred. "Winter in Wyoming, not fun." He shared a smile with Max. "I can see why you didn't want to go."

Max nodded and ducked her head. She knew she had been pushing things when John had announced the hunt in Wyoming that they'd do over the Christmas vacation. She'd flat out refused to go and refused to tell them why. John was sharp enough on the uptake to figure out pretty quickly why Max had no wish to return to that state, especially when they'd picked her up just one state over. But at least he didn't know the whole truth behind her fears.

"You ran into wannabe soldiers?" Max queried softly. That was the one thing that could drive fear into her heart. She needed to know more about this.

"Yeah," John snorted. He didn't continue until he'd completed a turn onto the main street where their home was located. "A bunch of kids running around in fatigues with paint guns."

"They actually tried to scare us off," Dean laughed. "I mean yeah, paint balls sting like a son of a bitch, but scary… hell no!"

"Where was that at?" Max asked, holding her breath, trying to sound like a normal, interested ten year old.

"Just outside Gillette, wasn't it?" Sam asked his father. John nodded as he pulled the car alongside the curb. Sam picked up the story and continued as John shut the car off. "Anyway, this older guy came along and told us all we were in a restricted area. This is where we got lost. And he tells the kids to go home and to quit trying to scare the tourists. So without a word, they all take off running and this guy comes off with some lame excuse about parents not paying attention to their kids. So he showed us how to get back to the main road."

The story was interrupted by the need to get inside out of the cold. Once again they transported food and presents as well as the baggage they'd all had. Once inside, Sam continued the narration. "So we got back to where we were headed in Gillette, only to find that the motel guy and his wife were having a fight because he thought that his wife was flirting with Dad when he checked in. As a result, all our stuff got tossed out of the room, the place got trashed and the cops were there when we arrived. Dad said he wouldn't press charges, you know, and we'd find somewhere else to stay."

"Of course that was the only friggin' motel in the place," Dean groused as he took the food into the kitchen. John just shook his head and moved to turn the thermostat back up. There'd been no need to have it running all the time with the house empty for a few days.

"So you ended up sleeping in the car," Max surmised. She hid her smile. Dean could camp out and tough things out with the best of them, but he did like his comforts. And when he was deprived of them, he made sure that people knew his displeasure about it.

"It wasn't that bad," John interrupted. "It was only for a few hours and I stayed awake to run the car when it cooled down too much."

"Yeah, but then I had to drive and I had a stupid crick in my neck from sleeping wrong," Dean whined. John rolled his eyes and began making a pot of coffee.

"So what'd you do while we were gone?" Sam asked his sister. It had been a tense discussion, before they had left, what to do with Max. They were lucky that Mrs. Gallagher asked if Max could come stay with her since her children were all visiting their in-laws this year. She would have been welcome, but she didn't feel like traveling through the cold weather. John had been reluctant, but could see no alternative. He knew that if he forced the issue of Max returning to Wyoming, the little girl would run. He just wondered when Max would start trusting them enough that the unspoken threat of her disappearance would abate. Although in this case, he didn't really blame her. It wasn't like he was all that eager to go back to Lawrence all that often. You always wanted to leave the bad places behind.

"Mrs. Gallagher taught me to knit," Max informed them with a huge smile.

"Oh yeah," Dean smiled suddenly, leaning back in his chair at the table, pushing it onto the back two legs. "That's why she was grinning over that huge bag of yarn you gave her."

"Not exactly," Max shrugged. "See, when we went shopping, she was telling me that she needed to get some more yarn and that I should pick some out to work with. So while we were at the craft store, I got her to point out all the colors and stuff she liked. And then I bought them. So she thought they were all for me, since I didn't really know what to choose."

"Then you turned around and gave them to her," John grinned. That sounded like something Mary would do. Max nodded.

"But not all of them," Max explained, jumping up to open up her duffel bag. She withdrew a bag containing some skeins of yarn. "I had to have something to work with." She spilled the yarn out onto the table and gestured at it. "Pick a color. Any color. I'll make you the longest darn scarf since what's his face on TV."

"Doctor Who, Max," Sam sighed. "His name was Doctor Who."

"I know," she replied smugly. "And he lived in the retard phone booth."

"No!" Sam half-shouted, his cheeks going slightly pink. "It was the Tardis. The phone booth was called the Tardis!" He glared at Max, who looked sweetly innocent. "You know, for a so-called genius, you're acting pretty dumb- oh!" Sam finally caught on to Max's teasing as he realized that Dean and John were doing everything possible not to burst out laughing. Dean lost it finally and was laughing, slapping one hand down on his thigh. John let out a few chuckles and then helped Max to stuff the yarn back into the bag.

"Take this and your stuff upstairs and get unpacked, okay?" John told Max. She nodded and hurried up the stairs. San was about to ask what his father was up to, when he motioned the boys to stay where they were at. John held up one finger until; he heard Max's door close.

"We still need to figure out what we're going to do about Max's birthday," John informed them. This had been a major topic of discussion on their road trip. Her birthday was only a week away, on New Year's Day and they had no idea what to do for her. If she'd been a boy, John knew exactly what they'd do. Find a shooting range and go fool around for a while, then pig out on fast food. Open gifts, and then eat store bought cupcakes. But that just didn't seem right for a little girl, even if that girl was Max.

"Well at least we can get her some presents," Dean sighed. They'd managed to pick up a little cash on the trip and their father was making a decent wage. "I still say we should get her some music," he argued, clearly opening up an ongoing discussion.

"Mm-mm," Sam disagreed. "Books. You know how she goes through them. And you saw the way her eyes lit up when Mrs. Gallagher gave her those L.M. Montgomery books."

"That's what she has a library card for dumb ass," Dean retorted.

"Dean, language," John chided. Dean tilted his head in acknowledgement. "And honestly, I think she needs something practical. Maybe some new clothes that she didn't grab off the rack at the second hand store."

"Yeah, but you heard her Dad," Sam complained. "She likes that stuff." John held up his hands before the argument got out of hand again. Each one of them was pulling for the gift that they had the most in common with for the girl.

"Why don't we get her some gift certificates?" he asked the boys quietly, still aware of the girl's position upstairs. He wanted this discussion over before she came back downstairs. "One from each of us?" The boys mulled it over for a moment.

"That'd be okay," Sam conceded.

"But that wouldn't let her get anything really great," Dean decided. "I mean, we could pool our money and get her a gift certificate for the mall. Then she could have fifty stores to shop at."

"They do that?" John asked of his son, amused. All this female shopping talk was funny, when being discussed solely by males. Dean and Sam nodded. "Okay, that's what we'll do then." He waited for the boys to agree and then moved on to the next topic. "Now, what about a party?"

"I don't think Max would like one," Sam replied honestly. "I mean, she's not really friends with that many kids at school."

"Except for Farmer Joe's kid," Dean grunted. Sam rolled his eyes.

"His name isn't Farmer Joe," Sam protested. John glanced between the two boys, waiting for an explanation. "Mr. Protsma," he supplied for his father. John nodded, having met the farmer in passing at the garage. He waited for any other forthcoming information.

"He sure likes to sow his oats," Dean smirked. John raised an eyebrow and again waited quietly. Dean's comment could mean a number of things.

"Justine told Max before school let out that her mom is having another kid," Sam informed him. John just nodded.

"Yeah, you'd think that six was enough," Dean scoffed. "But oh no, here they go again."

"Dean," John admonished softly. "It's no concern of ours if they want more kids." Dean shrugged. It was true, what his father said. But he honestly wondered what went through these people's heads when they continually brought children into this world. Not that he was against people having kids. He just wondered if it might be better for the kids just to have a few. Less competition for attention, less squabbles, more money available. He put it out of his mind though as his father and brother continued talking.

"So a party with her class is out," John clarified, feeling relieved. He really wouldn't have known how to handle a bunch of ten year old girls in his house anyway. "What does that leave us?"

"I don't know," Dean snorted. "Maybe one of us should just ask Max what she'd like to do," he suggested in a long suffering tone. As much fun as sneaking about could be, in the long run Dean preferred to just get it done.

"Oh, I could ask Max about the kinds of parties she's had before," Sam offered. "You know, what her favorite birthday party was. Maybe they had something special they did every year, or something."

"Yeah, I suppose so," John concurred. "Why don't you do that Sam?" The boy scrambled from his seat and was up the stairs before John could stop him. As the pounding footsteps faded away, John looked over at Dean in consternation. "I didn't mean right this second," he complained with a faint grin. Dean just laughed.

Twenty minutes later, when Sam returned to the kitchen, John and Dean could see immediately that something was the matter. He quietly took a seat at the table, shaking his head.

"What's the matter son?" John asked gruffly, holding his coffee mug between both hands. Sam stared at the table, appearing dumbfounded. "Sam?"

"She's never had a party Dad," Sam answered honestly, a hint of sorrow in his voice.

"So?" Dean asked. Maybe just like their family, parties for birthdays were family affairs.

"No Dean," Sam crossed his arms, looking mulish. "She's never had a party, or anything. Not with her friends. Not with her family. She has never celebrated a birthday."

"Oh right," Dean scoffed and then took a sip of his own coffee.

"No I'm serious," Sam pushed. He turned to his father. "She said that they never did any of this stuff in her family. And it makes sense…" he trailed off.

"What makes sense?" John demanded quietly.

"Why we had to explain Halloween and Christmas to her," Sam provided. "And Thanksgiving and Dad's birthday." He glanced up and took in the shocked realization dawning on the other men's faces. John set his cup down abruptly.

"She can't have not known," John said, confused. "I mean, she asked us about them, aside from my birthday."

"No, that's not right," Dean argued. "She knew the historical reference to Christmas and Thanksgiving," he clarified. He tilted his head up, staring at the ceiling. "Maybe Sam's right. Remember how weird she was when we gave her gifts? You said she was like a kid at her first Christmas."

"And she couldn't believe that everyone had gotten her something," Sam continued for his brother. Silence fell over the table, none of them looking at each other.

Finally Dean spoke up, "well, at least this means we won't have to dazzle her with a spectacular party if she's not expecting anything."

"She'd be expecting just dinner out and a cake, if she's expecting anything at all," Sam pointed out, referencing what they'd done for John's birthday recently.

"But on the other hand," John sighed heavily, "wouldn't it be nice to do something great on her birthday and really surprise her?" The boys nodded earnestly. They couldn't quite wrap their minds around never celebrating a holiday. But on the other hand, how weird was it for Max to be celebrating holidays for the first time in her life.

"This can't be the first time ever that she's celebrated or gotten gifts," Dean scoffed, still wrestling with the seeming impossibility of it. Sam shook his head and straightened up in his chair.

"Actually, she told me that her brother Zack once gave her a balloon," he explained. "A red one. But then _he_ made her get rid of it." John and Dean knew by the inflection of the youngest male Winchester's voice, that they were once again dealing with the elusive male in Max's past, believed to be her real father. John swore mentally at the bastard who had been raising Max. Even the most devoutly religious people he'd come across celebrated something. Even with the Quaker's they had quilting bees and barn-raisers, even if they didn't celebrate National holidays.

"Well all we can do then is come up with something we'll hope she'll enjoy and do our best to make sure that she has a good day," John finally decided. The boys nodded and that was the end of the conversation.

The next day, when John returned to work, he had a plan in motion. Most days, he was stubborn enough to go things alone. He depended on himself and no one else. Sure, he'd accept help from the boys or from trusted individuals that had proved themselves to him. And the thing about that, was that he'd developed certain connections for certain things. If he wanted to know something about cars, he called Bobby. If he needed to know about a spirit or religious matter, he called Jim. If he needed weapons, he called Caleb. So what he needed right now, was someone who knew about parties.

And since he didn't know who in his new circle of co-workers would know about this sort of thing, he cast a general net with those he knew to be parents themselves. They'd gathered in the break room for mid-morning coffee, since things were slow. John waited until everyone had their drinks before he brought up the subject. And as soon as he did, there were so many options thrown out on the table for him. Skating, bowling, the movies, shopping… But his favorite by far was from his boss.

"You know, there's a place up in the Falls," he began, once the other men had settled down. "My kids love it. Moonwalkers."

"Oh, the arcade place!" one of the younger mechanics exclaimed. He was in his early twenties and still enthusiastic about most things. John perked up.

"Not just arcade," his boss explained. "They do parties, pizza, games and those ball pits."

Tony nudged John with his elbow. "Think Chuck E. Cheese without the annoying dressed up rodents."

John grinned. "You think they'd be open on New Year's Day?" His boss nodded.

"You can always call and find out."

"I'll do that," John nodded.

He waited until he was home, taking the phone into his bedroom. He made sure that all three children were occupied in the living room with the television or their books. Max was indeed working on a Dr. What's his face scarf for Sammy, much to the boy's embarrassment. He sat on the bed, and found the number in the phone book. He dialed and was answered by a perky voice on the other end.

"Moonwalkers, this is Theresa speaking," the perky voice announced.

"Hello, this is John Winchester," John introduced himself. "I was wondering if you were going to be open on New Year's Day?" he jumped in without any other preamble.

"Yes sir," Theresa replied with even more enthusiasm. "It's one of our biggest days of the year, since kids are out of school and parents are off of work." There was a pause before she spoke again. "Were you planning a party?"

"Well sort of," John admitted. "You see, it's my daughter's eleventh birthday. We just moved to town recently and she doesn't know that many kids." It was sort of a lie, but the woman didn't need to know that.

"Oh I can hear that," Theresa was all sympathy. "Being the new kid is rough. But as I said, it's a busy day for us every year. There'd be plenty of kids her age to play with."

"That sounds good," he decided. Then he asked about their party plans. Theresa outlined the simple party that they did. There was pizza, a cake baked in the shape of a pizza with decorations and the birthday child received ten free tokens for the arcade. The employees brought out the cake, singing Happy Birthday. John nodded, thinking that while it wasn't overly extravagant, it was different. The price was affordable and Sam and Dean would enjoy the arcade. He just couldn't see Dean getting into a ball pit with preschoolers. Although the kid could surprise him sometimes. He decided to go ahead with it and set up the reservation. Now all he had to do was inform the boys and see about getting to town to pick up Max's gifts.

On the morning of her so called birthday, Max awoke later than normal. John had let all three children stay up late last night, watching the ball drop in New York at Times Square. Max hadn't really understood the excitement in it all. It was just a light display, with people yelling and screaming, then singing badly, loudly and off-key. But the others seemed slightly into it, so she had gone along with things. They'd played board games and had snacks and aside from the whole New Year's Eve thing, she had enjoyed herself.

She stretched out in the bed, under her covers, wondering what they'd be doing this day. John had the day off, and the kids weren't due back to school for a few days. Maybe they'd be getting ready for another hunt, somewhere closer to home. Or maybe they'd do as they'd done previously and just laze around the house. In fact, until Max smelled breakfast cooking and hurried downstairs without even changing and was surprised as all hell when the three male Winchester's had yelled out Happy Birthday, she'd forgotten that this was the day she'd chosen.

When John had asked her the date of her birthday, she knew in all honesty that she couldn't tell him that she didn't know. That was something she had learned quickly outside the walls of Manticore. It was a basic concept that all humans knew about themselves. When they were born and the fact that to kids, it was a big deal. So she'd lied and took the most convenient day, January first. She reasoned that it was an easy day to remember to tack on another year to her age. She never expected to have someone make something of it as the three men in her life were now trying to do.

She approached the table shyly, overcome by a strange emotion. John, Dean and Sam waited until she was seated to begin bustling about her. Without her lifting a finger, she soon had her meal. John slid a plate of pancakes before her while Dean retrieved something from a cupboard and Sam poured her orange juice and a glass of milk. Still smiling, so hard to keep the moisture in her eyes at bay, she waited for them to sit as well. But before she could reach for the syrup, John stopped her.

"You have something to open first," he informed her with a smirk. He nodded to Dean, who slid a gaily wrapped package to her. Max's eyes widened. Presents! She'd forgotten about that. "That's from Mrs. Gallagher. She hopes you like it."

Max glanced up at the males. All three were grinning and she realized that they were in on whatever the woman had gotten her. With care, she pulled the bow off the top and read the simple note on a little tag attached to the present. She slid a fingernail under the tape at the side while Dean gave an exaggerated sigh. They'd had this argument at Christmas. Ripping wrapping paper versus careful removal of said paper. To appease him, she stripped off a circle, the paper making a satisfying tearing noise.

"Oh!" she exclaimed in surprise. "It's chokecherry syrup!" She laughed then, because it was becoming something of a family joke, Max's love for the syrup and other fruits in general. Cherries were her favorite fruit to eat, but the chokecherry syrup held a special place in her heart. She'd gone through the bottle from Mimi in short order. She dug into it quickly and offered it to the others. Sam and Dean seemed hesitant, wanting it to last, for Max's sake, but John told them to go ahead. Apparently, an older lady living in the area had great crops of them each year and her syrup was always available for purchase. John could get more.

Breakfast was satisfying with Dean and Sam hinting that Max would get their present later. They made her guess what it was, laughing at how accurate her guesses would have been if they'd each had their own way. Finally with breakfast over, John shooed her upstairs to dress, telling her to put on her new outfit she'd gotten for Christmas. Max obeyed, listening to Sam and Dean argue good naturedly over the dishes.

When she returned to the kitchen, John had another surprise waiting. John handed her a pair of ice skates, explaining that he'd borrowed them from her friend Justine. Max felt her heart sink a little that Justine had not been able to be there, since the girl was visiting her grandmother over the holidays. There was also a gift from her friend, a set of three different bubble baths that were all the rage at school.

The men took Max up to the ice rink and Max was gratified to see Dean and Sam had borrowed some ice skates as well. All three donned the pairs they had and set out intrepidly on the ice. It was Max's first time ever, but with her natural grace and skills, she caught on quickly. They had fun, dragging each other around the rink, chasing each other, slipping and falling, laughing at each others falls. Eventually, some kids living nearby saw the commotion and came out to join them. Max learned to play crack the whip and exhilarated with the speed and the wind blowing through her hair.

When they finally made it off the ice, John was waiting there with a thermos of hot chocolate. He refused Dean's offer to try the skates, citing his age and his enjoyment of seeing the kids out having fun. They went back for more, but slowly, as the lunch hour approached and the other kids were called home, they decided to head in as well. At least that's what Max thought.

They trekked home, Max's feet tingling, her steps light. She didn't know if she could ever go back to not celebrating her birthday. She had never known in all those years of Manticore, just what she and her siblings had been missing out on. It brought a sad smile to her face, wondering if any of her siblings had discovered the joy a real family brought.

But she quickly shook it off. Any life was better than the one they had at Manticore. She would be happy that they'd hopefully made it out and were now getting a chance at life.

When they arrived back home, Dean showed Max how to clean off the skates while Sam and John staged a little play in the kitchen. John continued calling out for what the kids wanted to eat. Sam kept shouting out ideas, but John kept saying that they were out of whatever Sam had come up with. Or Dean would protest that he didn't feel in the mood for something or other. Max found it odd, since they'd stocked upon groceries just recently. She shrugged it off, assuming that perhaps the boys had eaten some of the stuff for snacks. Truthfully they ate weird combinations of food.

Finally John poked his head around the corner and asked Max and Dean if they were in the mood for pizza. Max nodded, not really caring what she ate and Dean enthusiastically agreed. They put the skates away and gathered their coats once more. They headed out and the boys went immediately to the car. Max was surprised, since the restaurant was in walking distance. Dean informed her that his feet were still cold so she shrugged and hopped into the car with Sam. But as John drove them down the main street, she started to wonder when he went right past both eating establishments.

"Don't worry," John chuckled. "The pizza's better where we're going."

So they drove on and Max got into the mood, laughing over Dean's funny faces he'd make whenever he tripped on the ice, with their older brother defending himself. He thought that it would have been Sammy, with his long, gangly legs tripping over himself. Finally, after an hour's drive, John checked his directions surreptitiously and pulled into the Moonwalker's parking lot, just off 10th Avenue South, the main drag of Great Falls.

Max glanced out the car window when the Impala pulled into a parking spot. She was a little confused. She read the sign, Moonwalker's Arcade. "Uh, I don't think you can get pizza here," she informed John a little cheekily. He just smiled and climbed out of the car. The kids followed suit and John confidently led them into the building. John bypassed the long line of shrieking ids and harried looking parents and went straight to the hostess, a young woman with bright blue hair.

"Hi," he smiled. The woman glanced up and smiled politely. "Winchester, party of four," he told her. She nodded, her finger skimming down an appointment book on her counter.

"All right," the woman nodded, her smile widening. She glanced them over and then centered on Max. "You must be the birthday girl!"

Max was startled, but she managed to nod. She had no idea what was going on. She'd heard noises of shrieking children and yelling parents coming from inside the building before she'd even gotten up to the main door. A first she'd wondered if the people inside were being tortured. But laughter permeated the air and she'd been able to relax. But now there was a woman she'd never met before who knew it was supposed to be her birthday. One glance at John and the boys and she knew that they'd planned this. She stepped forward, wondering what other surprises would be in store for her today.

"All right, you all get a blue wristband," the woman, Kyla, her nametag proclaimed. "But you get purple, 'cause you're the birthday babe." She pulled out the requisite bands and placed one around Max's wrist. "You get these so that if you need to go outside for some reason, you can come back in without having to pay again," she explained to Max. The girl nodded and smiled, it was a good idea to her. Kyla quickly attached the wristbands to the longsuffering males and handed John a slip of paper. "Just give that to the counter when you're ready for pizza," she informed him. She turned back to Max with something in her hand. "And Happy Birthday Max, from Moonwalker's."

Max took the proffered item, surprised to discover that some coins were being dropped into her palm. But upon a quick inspection, she realized they weren't coins but a token of some kind. There was a spaceship on one side with the arcade's name stamped on the other. "Thank you," she got out quickly, not wanting to appear rude and embarrass John.

The older man rested one hand on Max's shoulder and gave her a gentle push to get her inside. As soon as they opened the doors to the main room of what appeared to be a re-worked warehouse, the din from before exploded in their ears. Max's eyes widened as she took in immediately a playground apparatus that made the school's look like something for a flea circus. There were kids crawling all over rope walls, kids bouncing in ball pits, other children slithering through a maze of plastic tubes that interconnected with one another all the way up to the ceiling. Slides led down at various points and from various heights.

Even as she took this in, a smell assaulted Max's nose and she turned her head to the right. There was an eating area and she could smell the promised pizza that she thought they had been going for. Beyond that area, she noticed a closed off room with the word 'arcade' blazoned over the arching doorway. She realized at once that the tokens she'd been give must be for use in that room. She glanced up at all three males, waiting in anticipation for her reaction. She couldn't help the huge grin that settled into her face. "Awesome!" she breathed. She could see the relief on their faces that they had chosen her surprise well.

John was about to ask Max what she wanted to do first, when a child yelled out, pointing at Max. "Hey guys! She's got a purple wristband!"

Max looked up in alarm at the other males but they were almost as mystified as she. Before they knew what was happening, several children had detached themselves from the play equipment and had converged on Max. They were able to make out most of what the kids were saying and John was able to relax. It was apparent that these kids were regulars at this place and knew about the purple wristband equaling birthday child. He watched Max relax as well as the kids wished her a happy birthday, asked how old she was and invited her to play. She glanced up at John and he nodded his consent for her to go play. With another blinding grin, she took off in the throng and attacked the playground equipment as if she were starving for fun.

"Let's go find ourselves a table," John smirked, motioning the older boys to follow him. Sam managed to snag a table in the eating area that had just been vacated. John noted that the service must be good here, because a waitress was right there to clean off the debris left behind. She gave them an apologetic smile and a quip about how popular the place was. John agreed and then asked the boys what they wanted to drink. He got into the short line at the counter and when his turn came, presented the young man at the till with the party orders.

"Okay," the young man, Tim, as his nametag proclaimed him, "party of four. Do you want us to start on the pizzas now? It takes about twenty minutes."

John pondered a moment then nodded his head. "My daughter was getting pretty hungry, but I'm not sure she'll be able to tear herself away from the fun."

Tim grinned wryly as he typed in the order. "We get a lot of kids who end up eating cold pizza, but they don't seem to care. It's good either way."

"All right then," John chuckled. He did know from many nights that they ordered pizza that Max wasn't particularly fussy about it. And on the extremely rare occasions that there was pizza leftover, she would eat it cold for breakfast, just like the boys did. He only had to wait a few minutes for the drink orders to be filled and he picked up the tray from Tim, who told him that a waitress would bring out their order and to let them know when they wanted the cake, since it was already ready to go.

Dean and Sam were sitting obediently at the table, waiting for their father to return. Both of their eyes however were attached to Max. Dean glanced up when he heard his father approach, acknowledged him with a grunt, but went right back to watching the little girl.

"She's part friggin' monkey," he told his father with wry humor. John set their drink orders in front of them, handing them out with practiced ease before taking a seat himself.

"I wouldn't be surprised if she sprouted a tail," Sam concurred. That got John's attention. The boys were actually agreeing on something not hunt related. He turned his attention to find where Max had gone to. He couldn't immediately pick her out from the kids among the lower levels.

"Look up Dad," Dean hinted. John lifted his eyes until they landed on the wall where the rope netting had been set up. It climbed almost halfway up the warehouse wall and attached to a walkway. Max was there, hanging upside down, her arms swaying from side to side. John sucked in a surprised breath when he realized that she was hanging by one foot caught in the ropes. He moved to jump up and go rescue her, but Dean's hand stopped him.

"She did it herself Dad," he informed the older man. "She's been hanging like that for the last few minutes."

Even as Dean said it, John could see that Max was not panicking. She simply used the strength in her legs and abdominal muscles to pull herself upright once more. She pulled herself onto the platform and leaned over to call the rest of the kids up. Once they'd accomplished that, they started running and crawling through the elaborate maze of hollow tubes. John tried tracking Max in the throng and was pleased to see her come out the slide he'd predicted she'd be on. She waited for the rest of her playgroup to come out before she dashed over to the table they'd garnered.

"Hey," she greeted, not panting like the rest of her new friends were doing. John smiled and pushed her soda towards her. She snatched it up and took a huge gulp. She turned to her friends. "What now?"

"Oh, let's go hit the arcade," one of them suggested, amid a chorus of pre-teen babble of approval. John hid a grin as he tried not to chuckle at the slang these children were using. He also wondered if he'd ever sounded that ridiculous to his parents when he was younger.

Max nodded. The arcade sounded good and she had the tokens plus her own money to convert to tokens, if needed, in her jean pockets. Even as she reached for that pocket, one of the girls complimented her clothes and Max said with pride that her father had given them to her for Christmas. It was a gift that John was not expecting this day. For appreciation at what a cool father he was to come from an external source. But it was coming off in waves from these children.

"Are you guys coming?" Max asked as she drew one more sip from her drink, looking at Sam and Dean.

"Go ahead boys," John told them when they paused. He'd chosen this place as much for them as he had for Max. He didn't think it would have been fair for the boys to have to sit all day on the sidelines.

"Pizza should be ready in about fifteen minutes," he informed them as they moved off to the back room. The boys nodded and John was left on his own. He didn't mind for the most part. True, it was harder to shut out the noise the kids around him made, but he was willing to put up with it for a little while. In turn, he simply drank his coffee and checked out the rest of the building.

There wasn't much more to see. To his left, with his back facing the kitchen area, there was a store set up and John could see that children were trading in tickets for treats. Between the store and the kitchen was a sign leading to the restrooms.

Exactly fifteen minutes later, someone was bringing out two large, steaming pizzas. John was a little surprised at the size presented to them. As he mentally took in the dimensions of the pizza, he again realized what a good deal he'd made by booking the party here. He thanked the waiter and was told once again in polite terms to just let them know when he wanted cake, since it took a few minutes to get the Happy Birthday choral group together. John smiled at that. He wondered if he should go get the kids, leaving the pizza alone and vulnerable, or just dig in and hope the kids showed back up soon. His stomach growled and he mentally shushed it. He was a big supporter of families who ate together. But to his relief, the three kids quickly emerged from the arcade room.

Sam and Dean waited for Max to sit down first and while they seated themselves, John passed around the plates and cutlery that had been brought out. "So, did you win any tickets Max?" he asked, noting the twinkle in the girls' eyes. She nodded grinning, but John heard Sam gave a disgruntled snort.

"What?" the girl demanded as she reached for a slice of Hawaiian pizza. The boys followed suit and dug into the meal.

Sam shook his head and took a bite of his own slice. John waited to see what the problem was before he began eating. "Just spit it out son," he commanded.

"And he doesn't mean the pizza Sammy boy," Dean warned cheekily. John glanced at his eldest, noting the bright smile, so deep that his seldom seen dimples were threatening to break out. If Dean was smiling like that, then either Sammy had really embarrassed himself or Dean thought Sammy was getting too upset over nothing. It turned out to be the latter.

"You gave away all your tickets," Sam protested directly to Max. But the little girl just shrugged. Sam rolled his eyes and turned to his father. "She won like a ton of tickets and then she just gave them away."

"So?" Max demanded. "It's my birthday. I can do what I want. Right?" The last was directed at John, who as slightly startled at being suddenly thrust in the middle of their argument. He quickly swallowed his bite of pizza and nodded.

"Yeah, that's fine," he agreed.

"But Dad," Sam whined. "She had a TON of tickets."

"Yeah, of off like two tokens," Dean whistled. "It was pretty amazing Dad."

"Really?" John was surprised. He would have thought that she would have blown through those ten tokens in a matter of minutes. "What game were you playing?"

"That bowling thing," Max answered. John knew immediately which one she was talking about. You paid your token, got a number of balls and then had to roll them up a ramp to try and get the ball into a certain hole, surrounded by a hoop. Most gave you points and that's where the tickets came in.

"How'd you get so many tickets?" John wondered. Dean answered for the girl, whose mouth was full.

"One hole is a freebie," he informed his father. "You hit it for fifty points and a free ball. Max had it totally dialed in." Max happily nodded her agreement. She swallowed and reached for her pop.

"The only reason I gave those tickets away," she drawled, including everyone wither words, but directing them mostly at Sammy, "was because those little kids were having such a tough time getting any tickets. Besides, I wasn't the only one helping them out."

"What do you mean?" John asked as both Sam and Dean looked guilty. Max giggled.

"Dean was helping kids at the basketball hoop and Sam was holding kids up so they could see the video games," she announced rather casually. John looked at both his sons, wondering why on earth they were embarrassed to have been caught helping people. They did stuff like that all the time. Then he understood. They were manly men, or at least that was the image they wanted to project. And helping out little kids was kind of… teddy bearish.

"Besides," Max continued, "I can win more tickets for myself. And someone told me that you can save up the tickets. That way if you don't win a lot, you can use them the next time you come."

"Well, we'll have to see about that," John pondered. He wasn't sure that he'd be able to get the kids back up here for something like this. But perhaps, some time in the future. The family continued eating and drinking their fill. The moment that Max was done her drink, one of the kids from before, who seemed to be waiting for just that moment, raced over to grab Max and head back to the arcade. John watched with amusement as his own boys started getting ants in their pants and he excused them as well. He'd go get them when it was time for cake.

It didn't take them long before they were back again and John signaled to one waiter that they were ready for the cake. Max seemed about ready to leave but was completely surprised when a group of four employees came out of the back, bearing a cake aflame with eleven candles. They were singing a familiar tune and Max wondered what was going on. Only when they headed for her table, did she understand. It also made sense of the foolish grins on the Winchester males. Max waited until the cake had been set before her and then burst out laughing at the silly message outlined in candy. Everyone in their vicinity had finished singing and Max took a deep breath.

She knew that she was to make a wish, but it was already one that she made in her heart every day. That her siblings were safe from Lydecker and that they'd made good lives for themselves. It seemed the most appropriate wish and she made it again. A tiny part of her believed that if it was possible for her, then on this day that John had made special for her, the magic in wishing and believing was all that more potent. She closed her eyes and let out her pent up breath, managing to blow out each and every candle.

The party continued as John helped Max cut the cake and serve it around. As they were sitting forward in their chairs to eat, Max caught sight of her teacher. She was startled in a way, since she'd rarely seen her teacher outside of school. But now here she was with her husband and two children, whom Max knew from school by sight. Before she could stop herself, she was waving at Mrs. D'Amato. The woman seemed surprised as well, but she turned to tell her husband something and then made her way over to the table. Her daughter, a second grader, followed along behind.

"Max, hi!" Mrs. D'Amato smiled as she unbuttoned her coat. She turned to the others. "Boys, Mr. Winchester." They chorused back a greeting. She pulled her long coat off and folded it over her arms. "Happy Birthday Max. It looks like you're having quite a party."

"Thank you," Max smiled back politely. "It was a surprise."

"A good one?" the teacher asked astutely. Max nodded her head vigorously.

"Would you like some cake?" Max offered, knowing that there was more than enough to go around, even with Sam and Dean eating three helpings. Mrs. D'Amato smiled but shook her head, her hand resting on her daughter's tresses.

"Thanks, but I don't want to spoil our appetite for pizza and candy," she explained. She turned to ask John about their Christmas and Max smiled at the younger girl. Making sure that her mother wasn't looking, Max offered the girl a bite of cake. The girl hesitated, glanced up at her mother and then leaned forward to quickly snatch up the proffered treat. The girls giggled silently together.

"Mom," the girl spoke up suddenly. "Can I go to the game room?"

"It's 'may I'," Mrs. D'Amato corrected absently, "and yes you may."

The girl turned to Max. "Can you come? I don't want to go alone."

"Sure Amanda," Max acceded. She stood and the pair hurried off. John gestured for the teacher to take Max's seat. She settled down gratefully and smiled at the boys.

"I sure do admire your sons Mr. Winchester," she chuckled. Sam and Dean looked slightly startled, but John was beginning to get used to the direct nature the woman spoke with.

"How so?"

Beverly glanced again at the boys. "Well, I'll just put it this way. My brothers would never be caught dead in public with me when I was Max's age." Sam blushed and ducked his head but Dean just shrugged.

"If she didn't have them wrapped around her finger, they might be singing a different tune," John joked.

"Pot and kettle Dad," Dean retorted, gesturing to his father and himself. "Pot and kettle." John laughed. His son was right. He couldn't deny the spell that the winsome child had weaved over them.

"Can we go back to the arcade Dad?" Sam asked softly. John nodded and the two bys got up to head off to that area. They were nowhere near as fast as Max had been, but John could see that they were eager for some regular 'normal' kid time. Time and activities that were few and far between in their world.

"So this was a family party?" Beverly asked as carefully as she could. John seemed lost in thought for a moment, but then nodded.

"Her friend from school was away," he informed her. "I don't think Max minds though," he sighed regretfully. "She doesn't seem to have made a lot of friends."

Beverly nodded, also thoughtful. It was something she'd noticed as well. She didn't know whether to chalk it up to Max's advanced mind and nature or just plain shyness, or if she was still suffering the aftereffects of the horrible tragedies she'd been through. Or maybe it was a combination of all three. John continued talking softly. "She never really celebrated things in the past. Or was given the opportunity to." Both adults wee surprised. Beverly by the revelation, and John by the admission.

John," she leaned forward, her face serious, "in my line of work, I see a lot of kids with MIA parents. No matter what happens now, Max and the boys are better off because you choose to be involved in their lives. Just remember that." She waited for him to acknowledge what she'd just said, then lightened her tone. "Ah, it looks as if my men are getting antsy. I better join them." John nodded again and Mrs. D'Amato moved off with a smile to join her family in line for pizza.

John knew that she'd meant to be reassuring, but the words were like an omen to him. He had to be involved in the kid's lives because he knew what dangers lay out there in the big bad world. And he would be doing them the greatest disservice if he didn't arm them in any way possible against that knowledge. But he also knew that what they lost was beyond count, beyond measure. Just hearing their laughter ringing out was a cruel reminder of the harshness and fear that ruled their lives.

John had managed to put away the heavy thoughts that lay on him, though they were always in the back of his mind. But it seemed that the mood he was in had spread to the children a few days later when he returned home from work, the day that the kids returned to school from their winter break. No one greeted him as he entered the house, even though both Sam and Dean were sitting at opposite ends of the couch, watching TV.

John hung up his coat on the hooks behind the door and set his lunch box on the overturned milk crate that served as an end table. Still there was silence, but for the inane sit-com that the boys seemed absorbed in. "Hello," he said sarcastically. The boys grunted at him. He cleared his throat and both turned slowly to gaze at him.

"Where's Max?" he asked.

"Up in her room," Sam answered quickly, not liking the menacing gleam in his father's eyes.

"Did you do your homework?" he asked next. Both boys nodded, their eyes returning to the television set. That angered John just slightly. He strode over and slammed his hand on the button, effectively blinking out the mind-numbing crap they were staring at. "Al right, what the hell is wrong?"

"Nothing," Dean answered shortly, though his tone betrayed his surprise at his father asking.

"Then what's with the monotone twins act?" John demanded harshly. Both boys look chagrined and John realized that it wasn't deliberate. He softened his tone. "Something happen at school that I should know about?"

Dean shrugged, as did Sam. "Everything's fine Dad," Dean told his father.

"Except Max," Sam reminded him. He turned to his father. "She hasn't said a word all afternoon." John nodded and turned away from the boys. It was funny, he realized, how one person's mood affected the whole household. He moved into the kitchen, then up the stairs to Max's room. He knocked softly on the door, wondering why the light was out. The possibility of her having a seizure jumped into his mind, but was relieved by her response to enter.

He saw immediately the reason why she had the lights out. With the hallway light and the flickering blue light on the ceiling, John could make out Max's form on the bed. "You okay kiddo?" he asked as he moved into the room. The light on the ceiling turned to green and John pinpointed it to originate from the bed. He flipped on the light switch and saw that Max was holding some kind of statuette. "Where'd you get that?"

"It was a present," she answered quietly. John could hear the strange, foreign emotion in her voice. Like she couldn't quite believe that her possession was really hers. "From my class," she continued.

"That was nice of them," John was surprised.

"They threw me a party today," Max went on. "Mrs. D'Amato brought in pop and cookies and chips and stuff. And we played board games. It was fun."

"So why are you so down?" John asked gently as he eased himself onto the edge of the bed. The light, a four inch high unicorn statuette, continued to change colors.

"I think they want to be my friends," Max admitted softly after a moment.

"And what's wrong with that?" John wondered aloud. Max shrugged one shoulder.

"Sam said it's a waste of time," she confided. "He said that by the time you made friends with kids, you just had to leave again, so there was no point in making friends."

John was not at all taken aback by this sentiment, since he sort of believed it himself and Sam and Dean had both voiced that very opinion. But that didn't make it alright to bring Max down after such a good day. But John couldn't bring himself to lie to her either.

"Well," he sighed, "that's kind of true, what Sam said. We do often have to leave our friends behind." He watched as Max sat up and chewed at her lip. "But true friends will stay in your heart forever," he whispered. The words rang in his mind and he almost flinched. This was almost word for word what Mary had said when one of her dear childhood friends had moved away after getting married. Damn! He was going to be maudlin soon if he continued this heart to heart crap up.

"Like family?" Max asked, a quaver in her voice.

"Like family," John agreed with finality. Max set the unicorn down and threw her arms around her father's waist. John didn't worry then about what was manly, what was macho. All he could do was hug his little girl back.


	13. Moving On, Looking Back

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident as the story progresses, but much further down the road.)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Thirteen

Moving On, Looking Back

"You guys got to help me!" Max announced wildly as she rushed out of the school. She glanced around at the other students pouring out of the doors on the second to last Friday of the school year. Only one more week and they would be free at last for the seduction of summer days lazing around town.

"What's the matter Max?" Dean queried as he hefted his back pack over his shoulder. Max held her silence until they'd crossed the street and was away from her classmates. As usual Dean placed himself on the outer edge of the sidewalk, with Max wedged between him and Sam. "So?" he asked.

"Um, my class is having an end of the year party," Max informed them softly.

"So?" Sam sighed. "Every class is having an end of the year party." He wasn't really concerned about it. There would be food and fooling around. The school yearbooks that had finally arrived would be passed out to those that bought them. Not that the Winchester's had. John had already decided that it was a luxury they couldn't afford. Just like school pictures and all the other memorabilia that came along with standard education in public forum.

"Yeah," Max agreed, slightly bitter. "But Courtney Kimble convinced Mrs. D'Amato that we should have a party and a dance."

"For fifth grade?" Dean chuckled. The picture he'd formed was amusing. He could just see the awkwardness that would surround the kid. The boys would act like idiots while the girls spent the afternoon giggling. Max nodded.

"Didn't you have a party for Valentine's day?" Sam asked, even though he knew he was correct. Max nodded again miserably. "So what's the problem? You know about class parties."

"Yeah, but this time there's gonna be dancing," Max protested. Dean and Sam shared a glance over their sister's head. They hadn't quite figured out what the problem was, until Dean zeroed in on her words.

"Ah," he droned out teasingly. "You don't know how to dance." Max nodded shyly. Dancing hadn't been part of her Manticore curriculum, though she wondered if it might have been included, for mission purposes at some point. It figured that Manticore always seemed to skip over the things the kids actually needed to know about real life. Dancing and parties was just another in the long list of things that Max had had to discover for herself.

"So can you help me?" she prompted again. But both Dean and Sam were shaking their heads.

"Sorry kiddo," Dean grinned. "I'm not into that teeny bop shuffle thing."

"I don't dance either," Sam confirmed her fear. They'd reached their house by then and Dean unlocked the door to let them in.

"But at least you know what they do at parties like this," Max argued as she set her backpack, once again devoid of homework, on the sofa. "Can't you show me anything?"

"Sorry Max," Sam smirked at her as he headed for the kitchen to make a snack. Dean threw his bag next to Max's and was about to follow his brother.

"Dean?" his sister's pleading voice stopped him. "What's the teeny bop shuffle?" Dean stopped in the doorway and smiled broadly. He shook his head.

"It's not an actual dance," he groaned. He could see where this was heading. "It's just… the shuffle."

"The shuffle is a dance?" Max persisted. Dean groaned again. He could see that Max was certainly not going to give up on this. He wondered why. Usually Max marched to the beat of her own drummer, just as he and Sammy did. But then he realized what was fuelling her drive. Ever since her birthday and the party that her class had given her, she'd been starting to get along with the kids in her class more. And the unspoken rivalry that Courtney Kimble was bent on had amplified. But instead of ignoring her, Max was head on disregarding her and encouraging the other kids to do so as well. As a result, Courtney tried even harder to make Max the outsider once again. He wondered if Courtney had got wind of the fact that Max had never been to a dance and was using that as a final way of showing Max up. He knew then that he was doomed to help the kid. It might have been funny to tease Max and laugh off her ignorance at home, but he'd be damned if he let anybody else in this world pick on his family.

"Come on," he sighed," let's get a snack and then I'll give you a lesson in pre-teen party politics."

John was startled as he walked up the path to the house, by a large burst of laughter inside. Without thought, his own countenance turned up the corners of his mouth and his step lightened. It amazed him still how that sound that greeted him when he got home from work had the power to turn his entire day around. No matter what, when the kids were happy, for the most part, he would be happy too. He just wondered what they were up to.

He opened the door to find Dean carrying Max around the living room floor, with one of his arms extended in front of them, his hand clasping the little girl's. He spun her around and then moved back the way he'd come. Max was laughing and Sammy was sprawled across the couch, laughing at the pair. John stepped all the way in and slammed the door behind him.

"What on earth are you doing?" he demanded, though he was still grinning.

"Ve are tangoing!" Dean announced in a really cheesy Russian accent. He began humming badly to some obscure music that only he could hear. John blinked. Tango? Sam laughed even harder as Dean dipped Max so quickly and steeply that the girl had to scramble to grab Dean's shirt, lest she fallout of his arms. She struggled feebly, giggling as he let her loose and she slid to the floor. Dean continued with the humming, spinning Max around the living room floor.

"Where on earth did you learn to tango?" John demanded impishly. "And so badly at that?"

"On ze television," Dean answered grandly as he tried to continue dragging Max along with him. But the girl was too busy laughing at her older brother.

"And that's why too much television is bad for you," John answered wryly. He shook his head. "You definitely inherited my dancing skills."

"Oh come on," Dean straightened up, a mock pout on his face. "I'm not that bad."

"At tangoing, yes, you are that bad," John corrected. He left the room to deposit his lunch box in the kitchen and then came back. He looked at the kids. "So what's this all about?"

"I have a party next week," Max gasped as her giggles wound down. "Dean was teaching me to dance." John nodded, though he wasn't sure he liked the idea of his little Maxie getting all duded up for the pleasure of pre-pubescent boys to maul.

"Yeah," Dean chimed in. "We don't want her to be the laughingstock of her class now, do we?"

"If she dances like that she will be," John sighed, though he was still amused.

"We tried to tell her Dad," Sam piped up. "But she wouldn't believe us."

Max's face dropped. "You mean I really just have to shuffle around the room while people step on my toes?" All three males nodded. It was a time-honored ritual. "That's no fun! That's stupid!" They laughed at the indignation on her face. "Well it's not," she protested.

"It might not be fun now," Dean replied philosophically. "But it will be when you get older." He glanced at his father. "Even Dad dances like that, and at his age too. It's sad really."

"How do you know what I dance like?" John demanded. Dean shrugged, his eyes not meeting his father. There was suddenly a shuttered look on the young man's face. As far as John could remember, the last time he'd danced was with Mary, so many years before.

"I saw you and Mom dancing," Dean admitted, confirming John's suspicion. "Just before Sammy was born." Sam perked up at that. Dean had been so young that his memory wasn't clear about a lot of things about his parents. Everything had come into sharp focus with the demon and the fire that had taken their mother from them. All Dean could really share was senses, impressions and vague things about their mother. How she smelled, the softness of her voice. And of course, the devastation of her death ad sometimes robbed their father of the ability to speak of his memories of their early life together.

John's face softened. He knew exactly the moment Dean had been talking about. It had been shortly before Sam was due. "We were listening to music," he recalled, his voice soft and gruff, though the memory now made him smile. "You were in bed and your Mom's back was sore because you kept wanting her to pick you up. She wasn't supposed to but she did it anyways. So I was rubbing her back and the next thing I know, we're dancing."

Dean smiled as well. "I heard you come home and I wanted to tell you good night," he explained softly, his voice carrying the same wistful tone. "You were in the living room and there was no music and you had your arms around Mom."

"She kept saying that she was so big there was no way I could get my arms around her," John chuckled. "But I did."

"And she put her head on your chest and reached up and touched your cheek," Dean whispered. "And then you kissed her."

There was silence following that remembrance, everyone lost in the dream-like memory of the two older people. Sam and Max sat near one another, their imaginations taking them backing time to a safe place where all was right in Dean's world. Where the only thing that mattered was that his parent's loved one another and that knowledge soothed a four year old boy, allowing him to return to bed, knowing that his parents would be there for him no matter what.

Finally John shook himself out of his reverie. "I didn't know you woke up," he smiled at Dean. Dean shrugged.

"I always woke up when you came home late," he informed his father. John looked surprised by that, but didn't deny the possibility. Only in the first year of life could anyone accuse Dean of being a Mama's boy and that was because with Mary nursing him, he preferred her over everyone else. But his father was an amazing close second in his affections. Once the boy had learned to walk, then he was definitely his father's boy.

"Come on," John decided, leading the kids into the kitchen. "Let's get dinner started." The subject was now officially closed.

No more was said of the subject, though Max's so called dance lessons continued that weekend. She even encouraged Sam to get up and dance with her, even though he did exactly as Dean predicted he would and just shuffled around the floor, with his arms awkwardly resting around her waist. He kept her at the maximum distance allowed while still touching her. But at least by the weekend's end, Max had a fairly good idea what to expect at the fifth grade party.

It really helped that Dean didn't mind, and John allowed them to stay for the first part of Dean's graduation dance. The ceremony had had to be pushed back because there had been roof damage in the old auditorium where commencement ceremonies were traditionally held. The contractors had begun work, but at last, the school had realized that the work wouldn't be done before school was let out and decided to hold commencement the last weekend before school was let out.

So that Saturday afternoon, the Winchester family proudly watched as Dean received the diploma he didn't really care about. They ate dinner, chatting with the other families that either had children graduating, or the friends of said families. In a small town, yearly graduation ceremonies were a big deal. Everyone in Dean's class had graduated, so it was quite festive to have fifteen kids in the senior class all planning their futures.

The dance that followed was open to the public, since it was hard to get a good mix when nine of the seniors were female. The boys wouldn't have minded, but the girls wanted to dance. So John, Sam and Max sat on the sidelines watching the girls flock around a flirtatious Dean. Once John had decided that Max had seen enough dancing, he herded them home, calling out a reminder to Dean about his curfew. To their surprise, he followed them home not much later. School dances just weren't his thing.

The following Thursday, John had the afternoon off from work to attend both the fifth grade and eighth grade ceremonies. While neither was as lavish as Dean's graduation, if it could be called that, the community considered these milestones as well. Heck, they even had a kindergarten graduation ceremony earlier in the week. It was simply an afternoon where proud parents watched their children being awarded silly little trophies to celebrate their move into the next stratosphere of school. Sam would move up to high school and Max into junior high.

John was extremely pleased and not all that surprised when Max won accolades all around for her schoolwork. Her teacher took a moment to explain to the other parents present about Max's learning situation, as if most of them didn't know already. They also handed out other awards, for creative writing, most improved student and things like that. Max was also given a little trophy for being the most athletic kid in class. That didn't really surprise him either. And again, he wasn't surprised when Sam won academic accolades as well. The kid was just plain book smart.

There was a combined party for the fifth and eighth grade students and their parents after the ceremonies. Some mothers had worked tirelessly in the morning to prepare finger sandwiches, punch and cookies for everyone to enjoy. John filled a plate and then waited for his three kids to do the same. They moved towards an empty table. Dean slid in across from him, excused from the last day of classes, since they were a moot point for the graduate. People talking and eating swirled around them and John took the moment to tell all three kids how proud he was of them. All three kind of shrugged it off, but he could see the gleam in their eyes. They were satisfied with themselves and with John for noticing their good work.

Eventually, Sammy's teacher made her way over to talk with Sammy and congratulate him on a good year of schoolwork. She sat and chatted with John while he finished his sandwiches. That began an onslaught of teachers and students stopping by to chat with the family. Especially since it was common knowledge that they were leaving town. The family was quite private about the reasons why. To everyone else, namely John's boss, he put about the story that he was offered a good position at a garage back in their hometown of Lawrence Kansas and the family was moving back there. So it made sense to the secretary when John had given her the post office box number there so that the school could mail the kids final report cards. He told no one of their true plans. That they'd be going back on the road to resume hunting. He'd only stopped for so long so that Dean could have his final year of schooling.

Mr. Thompson managed to make his way over to the family, wanting to talk to John about Max's continued education. Upon hearing where the family would be moving to, Leo had worked with Beverly D'Amato at getting Max's transcripts ready. They were certain that the school in Lawrence would be happy to continue her education in the same manner that they had. With that in mind, he took a seat with the family, his plan outlined and in his hand. John listened to the principal and politely waited for him to finish.

"Thank you very much Leo," John spoke softly. "But actually, we were considering something different."

"And what's that?" Leo asked, slightly surprised, and especially since he'd discovered what a stickler was for the children's education.

"Well," John spoke slowly, pondering his words. "I'm thinking that now that Dean is out of school, and doesn't plan on going to college," Leo nodded at that. Dean hadn't been the only child not to attend the twelfth grade career counseling that was offered. "We might give home schooling a try."

"What!" Dean exploded, finally hearing his father's plan for the first time. He looked over at an equally stunned Sam and Max. "You mean I finally get to forget everything I learned and now you decide that I have to teach these guys?" John laughed at that.

"No son," John denied, his eyes twinkling. Leo looked interested as well. "What I meant was that since we're going to be running a family business, we'll have more flexible hours. You won't be working on anything full time, right?" Dean nodded, understanding his father's secret message. Family business meant hunting. "And so home schooling makes more sense. Max and Sam can each work at their own pace, with us supervising them. And maybe another lady I know," he threw that in for the principal's benefit. "While we're working, she can supervise them."

"Sounds like you have this worked out," Leo commented, wondering just how committed John would be to home schooling. He'd hate to see these kids' education suffer in any way. John turned to the other man.

"You said that Max would do well with home schooling," he reminded. Leo nodded.

"Yes," he conceded. "And I think both children would easily get through the course material applicable to them." He smiled at Sam, including him in the scholastic praise. Sam returned the grin and stuffed a chip in his mouth. "But since the kids would be on their own, they might end up with a lot of time on their hands."

"That's where Dean comes into it," John reasoned. "He can either watch them until I get home, or take them on historical outings. Or even bring them down to the garage."

A smile lit up Leo's face. "Hobbies can make excellent secondary studies," he announced. "And depending on what they are, you might even get credit for them."

"Like automotives?" Max asked. Leo nodded thoughtfully. "Dad and Dean have been teaching me to take apart an engine."

"Not only that, but clubs like gymnastic or self-defense classes," Leo supplied. "Maybe you might also be interested in joining a national club, like Scouting or 4H."

"That sounds kind of cool," Sam grinned. His mind was already whirling about how they could get credit for Pastor Jim's camp on self-defense. John's mind roamed in the same direction.

"Then I wouldn't have to baby-sit all the time," Dean agreed quickly. Not that he minded babysitting, but he'd kind of had a more active role in his mind when it came to the 'family business'.

John nodded absently at his eldest, and then turned to Leo. "So would I be able to get those information packets?"

"Certainly," Leo agreed. "They're national standards, but you'll also have to check with the Kansas Board of Education in case there are other qualifications you need to meet." John nodded. Leo stood up. "So when do you need that information?"

"As soon as possible," John answered. "I'm working my last shift tomorrow morning. The kids will be getting their last bits of stuff packed up and we'll head out Sunday morning."

"That quickly?" Leo was surprised. John nodded.

"We vacation every year with some old friends and they're expecting us soon," John explained carefully. "If we leave immediately, that gives us enough time to drop our stuff off at the house in Lawrence and then continue on to our friends." It was a lie, since John had no intention of going to Lawrence too awful soon. But Leo didn't need to know that.

"I see," Leo nodded, the wheels turning in his head. "Well, stop by the office before you leave today and I'll have that information for you."

"Thank you," John said with a note of finality. "I really appreciate it."

"No problem," Leo dismissed. He turned to the kids. "It was a pleasure having you three in my school and I wish you the best of luck for the future." The three kids murmured their thanks and Leo marched off. John turned to ace the kids.

"Well, you better go say your goodbyes. You won't get much chance tomorrow."

"Yes sir," they replied in unison. And slowly, the trio moved off to say another farewell in the long list of many.


	14. To Evade Is Divine

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident as the story progresses, but much further down the road.)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Fourteen

To Evade Is Divine

I'm bored," Max whined. It was about the third time she had said it. Dean rolled his eyes once again and Sam never even looked up from the book he was reading. Reading was what she should have been doing. The only trouble was that the rest of her books were already packed away in one of the few boxes that the Winchester's were taking with them. Those boxes were currently in the trunk of the Impala. The book that was resting beside her, she'd already finished. And unfortunately, with her photographic memory, Max knew the entire contents of the book front to back. Maybe in a few years she'd pick it up and read it again. There were few books that she'd found so far that she felt like doing that with.

"Read your book," Dean grunted again, for the third time.

"I'm finished it," Max informed him loftily.

"Then read something else," he muttered, flipping a page in the magazine he was leafing through.

"There is nothing else," she groaned. She looked over to Sammy to see how far he was through his book, wondering if she could borrow it from him. But he was only through the first part and Max knew that he probably wouldn't want to trade her for the book that she'd just completed. "What time is Dad supposed to get here?" she demanded. There was still no movement from Sam but the flickering of his eyes as he moved them over the words.

Dean rolled his arm to glance at his watch. "Any time now," he answered shortly.

"And he's bringing burgers? Right?"

Dean flopped the magazine down to his lap. He nudged at Max, sitting on the floor before the sofa, between Dean and his brother. "Yes Max, he's bringing food, just like he told us this afternoon before he left, when he didn't give us an exact time he would be back because he didn't know exactly what the guys from work had planned, but since he doesn't like us to be alone too long, even though some of us are eminently qualified to kick the crap out of whatever is out there, and does that answer any other questions you have that you already know the answers to?" The words ran together and Dean sucked in a mouthful of oxygen, staring the girl down. He groaned silently when the corner of her mouth tilted up.

"No," she grinned. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, waiting for the next onslaught. "Can we play cards?" Well at least it was a new question this time.

"Uh uh," Dean shook his head. "That pack got so dog eared that I threw them out. I was gonna pick some up next town we're through."

"Why not just get some at the store?" Max demanded. She knew that Mrs. Gallagher carried stuff like that.

"She was out," Dean answered quietly. Like the rest of the family, he'd become a loyal shopper at the local store.

"Dean?" Max whimpered. He ignored her. She poked his leg. "Deeee-an!" He kept ignoring her. She poked him in a few places. He shifted his leg away from her. "Dean Dean Dean Dean!" She started to chant and poke playfully. Finally he gave up.

"What!" he exploded, slamming the magazine shut. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a smirk tempting Sammy's lips. He glared down at Max, severely annoyed with her. All he wanted to do was relax before his father got home with the food, eat, pack the car, and relax some more then head to bed. They were leaving extremely early in the morning and Dean didn't want to have to sleep in the car.

"Can we play another game?" Max asked sweetly. Dean could have sworn that she'd already come up with a game entitled 'number one game to drove my brother nuts'. And the bad thing was, she was definitely winning. Well, time to turn the tables on her.

"Sure," he smiled broadly, throwing her off track. She did look surprised at his sudden surrender. "What do you suggest?"

"Ooh," she breathed out quickly, clambering up to her knees. "Escape and evade!"

"Huh?" She lost him on that one. Was it some kind of board game? He knew they definitely didn't have that one.

"You know… escape, and then evade," Max spoke slowly, like she was talking to a two year old.

It wasn't like Dean hadn't heard the term before, but this was one game he'd never heard of before. "Yeah I get it," he muttered impatiently. "But huh?"

"Hide and seek man," Sam finally piped up. He'd put his book down to watch the drama unfolding between his siblings and there was definitely an amused glint in his eyes. The younger boy glanced at Max, communicating with their eyes. Max just seemed glad that someone was on her side. Before Dean could say anything else, the two of them shouted in unison, "1-2-3! Not it!"

And then they disappeared from the room. Dean stared at the doorway to the kitchen, open-mouthed. Did he just agree to play hide and seek? Apparently those two thought he had. And then an evil little grin settled on his face. Sure, he'd play hide and seek. They could hide and he would seek… eventually. He picked up his magazine once again and flipped through to the article he'd wanted to read. He did keep one ear open though, especially when he heard bumps and thumps coming from the basement. He glanced over and saw that Sam had taken his book with him. At least he knew the routine. He just wondered how long it would be before Max caught on to Dean's game.

It was perhaps half an hour later that Dean finished with his magazine. From cover to cover. He'd even forced himself to read all the advertisements and captions under the pictures. He threw the magazine down and glanced at his watch. He was starting to wonder himself where their father was. It must have been some going away party that his father's co-workers were throwing him. Dean smirked a little at the thought of John trying to drive them tomorrow with a hangover. But knowing his father, he'd be letting everyone else doing the drinking.

He rose from the couch and stretched his six foot frame as high as it would go, then decided he better search out the kids. He headed for the basement first, knowing that one or possibly both were down there. As he opened the basement door and flipped on the light, his ears tuned to even the slightest noise, he heard a muffled grunt. Sounded like Sammy.

"Ready or not, here I come!" he called out. He thumped down the steps as loudly as he could. Sammy had gone silent at his older brother's approach. But Dean knew what little clues to look for. He almost hated to find the kid, because the silence for the past while had been nice. But there was the clue he was searching for. A sheet that hadn't belonged to them, that had been in the house when they'd moved in, was now lying over the gap between the washer and the dryer. Dean crept over and yanked the sheet away, not really surprising his little brother.

"Took you long enough," Sam groused as he tried to shift from his squashed up position. He winced as he got an arm out. "I think my legs are asleep."

"Your own fault for hiding there," Dean lectured remorselessly. He wrinkled his forehead. "How the hell did you get yourself in there anyway?"

"It wasn't easy," Sam confessed, moving inch by inch to make his way out.

"Good thing you didn't have another growth spurt while you were down here," Dean chuckled. "We'd never get you out."

"You might not anyway," Sam complained. He seemed to be well and truly stuck. "Give me a hand."

"Nuh uh," Dean held his hands up. "You got yourself in there, you can get yourself out."

"I'm serious Dean," Sam complained. "I'm stuck."

"Well the washer and dryer ain't," Dean retorted. Sam looked incredulously up at his big brother. He recognized in an instant what Dean was doing. It was one of Dean's and John's credos that you should never get yourself into a situation that you couldn't get out of. Advice that Sam had wished he'd taken. But with a heavy grunt, he flexed his drawn up legs, pushing against the machines he was sandwiched between. Though heavy, they began to give and Sam was able to make a couple more inches of room for himself. He reached up and was able to grab the top of the dryer and he hauled himself out. And Dean still wouldn't give him a hand, until he'd gotten all the way out and heard the mocking applause.

"Finally," Dean snorted. "Now let's go find Max."

"You find her," Sam retorted snidely. "After all, you're it." Dean shook his head and began glancing around the basement once more. He hadn't heard any other noise while Sam was working his way out of his predicament, which led Dean to believe that she wasn't down here. But he wanted to check and make sure anyway.

A quick search assured him that she'd gone a different direction than Sam had. And the smirk on Sam's face as he watched his brother search confirmed that idea. Dean turned and bounded up the steps. He didn't bother with the main floor. Any kid knew better than to hide too close to the 'it' person, didn't they? But knowing Max, she could be anywhere. Dean heard Sam coming up and wondered if he'd follow all the way up. But Sam didn't.

Dean made a cursory check in the bedrooms upstairs. The beds were stripped clean of the sheets that had previously been on them. Sleeping bags were ready to go. So Dean could see immediately that she wasn't under any of the three beds up there. Checking the closets, he had no luck there either. So he figured she was either in his Dad's room or in the bathroom.

He ran back down the stairs, impressed with his sister's skill. No wonder hide and seek was her favorite game. She was pretty good at it. He wondered how she would fare at being it. But he wasn't about to lower himself to suggest that he play again. He caught a glimpse of Sam at the kitchen table, reading once again. Dean shook his head and turned to his left. Again, there wasn't much to search in the bathroom. She wasn't there.

A grin formed and Dean slowly advanced on his father's bedroom. He eased the door open, wanting to draw out the suspense. As with the rooms upstairs, the bed was stripped clean and he could see that she wasn't under there. That left just the closet. Dean let his footfalls thump on the bare floor a little louder than he normally would. He let the door creak a little as he opened it.

"Gotcha!" he yelled, yanking the closet door al the way open. Except… he didn't. Have her, that was. The closet remained blissfully empty, devoid of things but for the few wire hangers John couldn't be bothered to take. "Ooh, sneaky sneaky," he chuckled. He exited his dad's room and headed back for the kitchen. He bypassed Sammy and checked out the living room. With the couch shoved up against two walls, there was no way she could wedge herself into that corner. So Dean knew that the girl hadn't found refuge there. That meant only one thing. She had been in Dad's closet, but must have snuck downstairs while he'd been upstairs. Very smart. But he'd get her.

"Still looking?" Sam asked smartly when Dean passed through the kitchen.

"Laugh it up fuzz brain," Dean retorted. "At least she's better at this game than you are. I finally have a bit of a challenge in years."

Sam shrugged off the insult and buried his nose back into his book. He was truthfully, enjoying Max taking Dean down a peg or two. It seemed that his big brother wasn't as perfect as he liked to claim he was. Otherwise, he'd have found Max ages ago.

"Sam!" Dean's voice sounded tense and frustrated as it floated up from the basement. Sam was going to ignore it, but the memory of Max's seizures bit hard in his mind and he was out of the chair before he could think any more.

"What?" he yelled from the basement door, ready to jump either way.

"Where is she?" Dean demanded, his face appearing at the foot of the stairs.

Sam was dumbstruck for a moment. Dean hadn't found her yet? "I don't know," he answered simply. Dean rolled his eyes and began climbing the steps.

"You gotta know," Dean argued. "Where did she go? Is she outside?"

"You mean she isn't down there?" Sam was perplexed. Dean gave his little brother a 'duh' glare.

"Did she go outside?" Dean demanded again. Sammy shrugged helplessly.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I thought she went upstairs or to Dad's room."

"She was in Dad's room," Dean barked. "I meant when I was upstairs."

Sam was still confused. "You think she went and hid somewhere else?" Dean nodded slowly, losing patience with his little brother. "But she didn't," Sam protested.

"Don't play around Sam," Dean warned. "Where did she go?"

"Honestly Dean," Sam gasped. Dean was starting to look royally pissed off. And Sam knew that that was not a good sign. Dean searched his little brother's face. Sammy really well and truly did not know where Max had hid.

"Damn it!" Dean roared as he headed for the back door. He wrenched it open and stared out into the night. "She knows better than to be wandering around at night."

"She wouldn't leave the yard, would she?" Sam asked breathlessly.

"She better not have or I will tan her hide for pulling such a stupid stunt," Dean growled. There was no choice for it, he stepped out onto the back porch and started trying to acclimate his eyes to the dusky evening sky. He was pleased that Sam had followed suit. He really didn't want to explain to his dad how they'd lost Max.

When she heard the growling voices and the back door being yanked open, Max had to stifle a giggle. Her internal clock told her that she'd been hiding up on the roof for at least forty-five minutes. She had figured that Sam would go to the basement because there were more dark corners and places and things to hide behind. But for herself, she had a plan in mind before they'd even left the kitchen.

There were certain parameters that she was confined by. It was a long standing rule of John's that Sam and Max were not allowed to wander alone after dark. John or Dean needed to be in attendance if they went anywhere. Even just to the ext house over. And if he wasn't home, they weren't to leave the yard unless it was an emergency. But there was still plenty to work with.

So Max had stealthily made her way up to the top floor of the house. She debated which room to use and finally settled on her. She'd pulled the window open and hoisted herself up and out. By standing on the windowsill and reaching up, she was able to grab the eaves on the roof. She tested it a little to make sure it would hold her weight, which it did. She then used the toe of one shoe to push the window shut. Being careful to be quiet, she made her way across the roof, to find cover under the canopy of the huge cottonwood planted in the next lot.

After a quarter hour of waiting, Max began to wonder what Dean was up to. Taking a chance, she reached up and took a hold of the tree branch closest to her. It swayed and Max hoped that Dean would think that it was just the wind rustling through the leaves. She quickly descended the tree and hopped from the top of the fence, down to the ground. She crept around to the front of the house and peered in the living room window. Only to find that Dean was still reading his magazine. She recognized the mind game immediately. He was going to make them wait so he could have some peace and quiet.

Well Max wasn't about to let him get the best of her. So she hunkered down in the lone bush and amused herself by making faces at her elder brother. He had no clue that he was being watched. She ducked down finally when he threw his magazine down. She peered carefully from her perch as he stretched and then ducked out of sight as he strode towards the kitchen. She checked when she heard footfalls coming from the back of the house and decided her coast was clear. So she carefully headed back to the tree to resume her former perch.

Once again on the roof, she heard the muffled sounds of the house being searched. She knew he'd found Sammy when she heard two voices in the kitchen area. The search upstairs went a lot quicker and Dean apparently didn't notice anything amiss with her bedroom window, since he went back down the stairs. There was another wait and then some yelling. And then Max heard the back door open. She carefully slid herself across the roof and peered down at her brothers over the eave. They dashed off the porch step and began searching out the darkening corners of the fenced in yard.

"Max!" Dean yelled. "Where are you?" He turned in circles, trying to see everywhere at once, which was impossible, even for Manticore alumni. Max again bit back the urge to giggle. "Come out now! Game's over!" Yeah right. Game wasn't over, which was why the second part was evading. Obviously Dean wasn't very good at this game.

"Come on Max!" Sam called from the other end of the yard. "Come out!" The boys waited, but there was no answer.

"I'm serious Max!" Dean tried once again. "Come out now, or I will kick your little ass when I find you." There was still no answer. The two boys walked slowly, listening for anything, a clue, her voice, anything. They met in the middle of the yard, their eyes troubled.

"Dad's gonna kill us," Sammy whispered.

John sat comfortably in his Impala, his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel. He was musing over the dinner and drinks that his now former co-workers had sprung for in the next tiny town over. He hadn't wanted to leave for home so late, but everyone was caught up in story-telling and reminiscing and he hated to cut things short. When he'd glanced at his watch and realized how late it was getting, he almost kicked himself. It was two hours since he'd called the kids to let them know he'd be on his way home soon.

So he'd placed his to-go order and continued to feel bad as he waited for the orders to get ready. When he finally had them, he'd called goodnight to the others and dashed out the door. He considered calling once more, but decided against it. He'd apologize and deal with their well-deserved peevishness with him when he got home. He had his cell phone in case of emergencies. And since there were no calls and no messages on it, there were no emergencies.

The drive between Square Butte and Geraldine was fairly short. But nonetheless, John was glad that he'd already eaten. Those burgers smelled mighty good. He wondered if the kids would notice if he stole a French fry or two. His hand crept towards the Styrofoam containers, piled one on top of another. He glanced down to undo the flimsy clasp, but cursed when something caught his eye. As he had almost one year ago, he swerved to avoid an animal in the road.

But there was something more to it. He managed to stop the car and glancing behind him, he backed up. He did it quickly, hoping that no other car would come along. He directed his headlights to cover the animal. From what he could first see, it seemed to be a cow. He wondered at how it had come to be road kill. Whoever hit it must have sustained pretty good damage to their vehicle. John glanced at the ditches. They were shallow right here and he didn't see a wreck anywhere. He eased the car to the side of the road and left his blinkers on, just in case someone else came along.

He got out of the car and a smell assaulted his nose. One that he hadn't smelled in a while. At least not in this magnitude.

Blood.

The highway was covered with the substance. John eased through it, grimacing. It was something he'd done before, but that didn't mean that he enjoyed it. When he finally reached the animal, he figured that it had probably bled out from its injuries. But one glance at the animal's head and John knew that this was no accident.

The animal's throat had been slit and the eyes removed.

Fear, panic and anger gripped him all at once. He cursed himself out loud that he hadn't seen this coming. The demon was here and the kids were alone. He ran for the car and slammed it into gear. He roared around the carcass on the road and pushed the needle as high as it would go. Geraldine came swiftly into sight and out of necessity, so he wouldn't kill himself trying to reach home, he slowed. He contemplated calling the house, but he was so close now that it was pointless.

He pulled up to the curb, parking haphazardly. The door was swinging wildly as he ran from the car to the house. The lights were on, but there was no sound as John panted and opened the front door. His gun was out and ready as he carefully toed off his squeaky shoes. He didn't want to give any intruder a clue that he was there.

The living room was empty, though John noticed Dean's magazine on the couch. He swept his eyes around the room, knowing that anything could manifest in dark corners. He made it through to the kitchen and his heart nearly stopped. The backdoor was hanging open. John forced his breathing to slow, kicking his Marine training into high gear. He couldn't assume anything. He crossed the kitchen floor, relief filling his throat when he heard his boys' voices outside. He made it to the door just in time to hear Sam whispering.

"Dad's gonna kill us."

"Sam? Dean?" John's voice rang out. The boys whirled around, noting immediately that he had his weapon out. That right there put them on even higher alert. Neither boy answered, but glanced guiltily at one another. Fear gnawed at John's stomach. "Where's Max?" The boys continued to look guilty. "Answer me!"

"We don't know," Dean finally answered in a completely repentant voice. At his father's low growl he attempted to explain. "We were playing hide and seek and we can't find her."

"Damn it!" John roared. He rushed off the steps. "Where did you look?"

"I searched the house and we looked around the yard sir," Dean snapped out, well aware now of how dangerous the situation was. Something was out there and it might have his little sister. A situation that wouldn't have developed if he'd been on the ball. That was the only reason John would be carrying his gun openly. Something was out there.

"Max!" John yelled, much like the boys had done only minutes ago. "Max come out now! The game is over!"

Max had heard John's arrival. She peered over the roof edge, also noting the gun. She waited for John to start chewing Sam and Dean's asses for not being able to find her, but there was more panic about him than anger at the moment. And she knew something was definitely up. He was right the game was over. Easing her way carefully, it wouldn't do to fall accidentally, Max dropped from her perch, landing silently not five feet behind them.

"Where the hell could she be?" John panted.

"Right here sir," she answered swiftly. All three males jumped and spun to see her, standing just off the porch, looking completely innocent and thankfully, unharmed.

"Where the hell were you?" Dean demanded, relief pouring through him.

"No time for that right now," John barked. "Get your stuff and get out to the car. Now!"

There was no way the children could refuse the fear in his voice. They ran as if their heels were on fire. Within minutes, they had their bags and sleeping rolls and were out at the car. John had already retrieved his duffel and bag and was stuffing them into the trunk as well. He didn't care that there were lights on in the house; he just wanted to get his children away from there. Dean helped him stow the bags while Sam and Max hurried into the back seat. But before Dean could hurry around to the passenger's side, John handed him a revolver. And then another.

"Give that to Sammy," he instructed, while grabbing something else. Dean was surprised. Whatever was going on was huge, for them to be arming Sammy. John slammed the trunk shut and Dean took that as a cue to get in the car. He shoved the Styrofoam boxes over and took his customary seat. He handed the gun back to Sammy, a silent warning in his eyes. John offered something to Max and at first it seemed the girl would refuse. But finally she relented. She pulled out a silver knife from the sheath, examined it quickly and then slid it back home. She leaned forward and tucked it into the back of her pants. John pulled away from the curb, performed a U-turn and was pulling out of the town before the kids could really catch their breaths.

Once they had a few miles under their belt, John addressed the kids. "What the hell was going on back there?" he demanded, the fear still evident in his gruff voice.

"Max was bored," Dean began, sticking to the most relevant points. "So we decided to play hide and seek. Sam hid in the basement. I found him right away, but I couldn't find Max."

"It wasn't hide and seek," Max piped up from the backseat. Dean turned enough to glare at her.

"I checked all over the house and then we checked outside," he continued. "I told her the game was over, but she still wouldn't come out."

"I wasn't playing hide and seek," Max protested again. "I was playing escape and evade."

"Well I don't care what the hell you call it," Dean shouted at her. "When I tell you a game is over and to come out, then you get your ass out."

"Only if I want to be captured," Max shouted back. "That's just the thing the enemy does to trick you."

There was stunned silence following that outburst and then John laughed. It was rusty and tired sounding, but it was a laugh. "Escape and evade, hmm?" He glanced over at his eldest. "She has a point, you know?"

"What do you mean sir?" Dean asked tiredly. The adrenaline rush had passed and he was feeling decidedly worn out.

"The whole point of evading is not to be found," John pointed out. "Different from hide and seek. Eventually you want to be found so that the game continues."

"Fine," Dean grumbled. "But we're never playing escape and evade again."

"What if we have to?" Max wanted to know.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"What if it's not a game?" Max asked softly. All three males were paying attention. "What if something, or someone is after us and we get split up or something."

"Another good point," John decided. He glanced down at the Styrofoam, once again noticing the lush smell of deep fried food wafting through the car. "You guys should eat. I brought burgers and fries." He nudged the boxes back towards Dean and the teen obligingly handed the top two back to his siblings. Sam and Max took them gratefully and immediately dug in.

"Sam," Dean warned. "Put the gun on the floor. Don't leave it in your lap." Sam nodded and complied, even while shoving French fries in his mouth.

"So what if it happens like Max says?" Sam managed to ask with a mouth full of food. "What if we get split up? How will we know it's safe to come out?"

"We should have a code word," Max decided. "Or two. One for when it's okay. And one for when there's still danger."

"Good thinking," John grinned. "Any idea what our code words should be?"

"They shouldn't be normal everyday words," Dean thought out loud. He took a bite of his burger. "Then we'd never know for sure if things were okay or not."

"What about words in a different language?" Sam asked. "That wouldn't be confusing."

"But if someone were holding you hostage or something," Max interrupted, "they'd catch on when you suddenly started spouting French."

"I didn't say it had to be in French," Sam protested. "Just another language."

"I think Max is right," John mused. "It needs to be something that sounds ordinary, but means something to us alone."

"So something cheery for the all okay sign and something bad for the bat signal?" Dean asked. But Max was already shaking her head.

"That's a dead giveaway," she argued. "If you suddenly start talking about things with bad connotations, the bad guy will catch on."

The group sat in silence while John continued to drive on. But suddenly, something hit Dean and he turned around in his seat. "Hey! Where were you hiding?"

"On the roof," Max answered with a slight grin. Dean gave her his patented 'I don't believe this crap' glare and she laughed. "Really!"

"How'd you get up on the roof?" Sammy demanded.

"I climbed," she retorted. Sam shook his head. "Really! I did!"

"What did you climb?" John demanded.

"The tree next door," Max answered glibly. John rolled his eyes heavenward for just a moment and heaved a long sigh. "It wasn't hard. You just jump up on the fence, climb the tree and there was a branch that hung over our roof."

"I believe you Max," John said at the end of her explanation. "But please, don't ever do that again."

"Yes sir," she replied meekly.

"On the roof," Dean chuckled. The other occupants glanced at him. "That can be our signal that everything's okay. I'm on the roof!" The others laughed and all was well again. At least as well as it could be.


	15. A Slice Of Normal Pie

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident as the story progresses, but much further down the road.)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Fifteen

A Slice Of Normal Pie

The day had dawned brightly. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky. A warm, gentle breeze blew. And Max's teeth were grinding away madly in the recesses of her mouth. She sighed as she glanced around once more. There was something off in this area. And she had learned enough over the past year that she'd been with the Winchester's to trust this particular instinct. The only problem was, John and Dean weren't there and Sam had blown her off to go play with some other kids.

The picnic that Pastor Jim had organized for the various families gathered together had been greeted enthusiastically enough by most. Those who weren't interested certainly didn't have to go. But pretty much everyone who was there decided to take a slice of normal pie. At least as close to normal as these ragtag groups of hunters could. Every single hunter and even some of the family members were packing some sort of weapon. And the picnic area and the lake beyond it had been scoped out. Then the festivities had begun.

Max wasn't interested in eating hot dogs or listening to people trade horror stories. She wasn't interested in the group of ladies that were catching up with one another while they knitted or crafted or tended young children. She wasn't interested in kicking around a ball with the kids in her age group, which was what held Sammy's interest.

What she was interested in doing was getting rid of this annoying prickling at the back of her neck.

The problem was that none of the adults here were familiar enough with her preternatural senses. If they knew, then she could trust that they'd take care of the problem. But that wasn't even the biggest issue. The other problem was much different.

John was a Marine.

This was information that Max had gleaned long ago. But through careful questioning and subtle pushes to talk about that portion of his life, Max had ascertained that he knew nothing about the Army base in Wyoming. He had no suspicions about who she was, other than a runaway girl that he'd unofficially adopted. But now Max was thrust into this group of strangers. It didn't help her at all that Sam knew quite a few of them or that John trusted them. It wasn't even al the strangers, just a select few.

The ones who'd made it out of the service, only to embroil themselves in a different war. She had no idea how much these men and women might know about what was going on in the mountains of Gillette. And she wasn't going to take the opportunity to drop any hints their way. John, though he kept to the Marine code he'd learned and embraced, was no longer in the service. Truthfully, that didn't mean that he was completely out of that loop, but just kind of on the edges. Here though, were the Army brats that she had to watch out for. She truly was at a loss with no information to rely on other than what her own senses were telling her.

Ands that's how it came to pass that Max was first on the scene when a water sprite made off with Sammy and another boy.

Pastor Jim strode through the house; his determination to make it to the telephone without distraction would have been extremely obvious, had anyone been there to see him. He took the telephone from its base and after once more making sure that the coast was clear, dialed in a new number that he had committed to memory, the moment it had been given to him.

"Hello?" The voice was tired, careworn and so familiar.

"John?" Jim spoke calmly, even though he knew the fireworks about to explode. "It's me."

"Jim?" John's voice went from tired to barely restrained panic in less than a second. "What happened?"

"The kids are fine," Jim assured him immediately. He wanted that clear right from the start. He heard a soft, semi-relieved grunt on the other end of the line.

"But something still happened, didn't it?" John sounded slightly amused now. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have called."

"True," Jim smiled. He sighed himself, and launched into the explanation of the picnic disaster. "Sam and some of the other kids were kicking around the ball this afternoon, down by the lake."

"Sam's kind of soccer obsessed right now," John chuckled ruefully. "Let me guess, something in the water got him?"

"Yeah," Jim confirmed. "He and Tim Shewchuk's boy, Mark, were both pulled under."

"They're both okay, aren't they?" John demanded all business once more. His care and concern were centered on his children, but he never wanted anyone else to know the pain of losing a loved one, especially a parent losing a child.

"Mm-hmm," Jim nodded, even though he knew John couldn't see him.

"Who saved them?" John demanded to know.

"Well that's the thing," Jim sighed heavily. John waited for an answer that didn't seem forthcoming. He made an impatient noise and Jim carefully broached the delicate subject. "Just how much do you know about that little girl you got?"

"Max?" John was surprised to hear the suspicion in Jim's voice, yet not surprised in another way. "What did she do? Is she okay?"

"Oh she saved those boys all right," Jim confirmed. "It's just how she did it that's got me wondering."

"Why don't you tell me the whole story," John suggested in a crisp, no-nonsense voice, very similar to the one Pastor Jim used when needed.

"Well as I said, the kids were down by the lake," Jim recounted. "Somebody, I don't know who, kicked the ball out of bounds and it headed for the lake. Sam and Mark went after it, but it rolled into the water. Now John, we'd checked that lake out before and there was nothing there that we could tell."

"But Max knew, didn't she?" John surmised, surprising Jim.

"How did you know?"

"She's done it before. Go on."

"Well John, we were running down to the waterfront, the kids were yelling. Mark got pulled under first. He's smaller than Sam. And Sammy was fighting it hard. And then Max…" Jim still wasn't sure quite how it happened. "Well John she wasn't anywhere around. And then she was just there. She showed up out of nowhere and yanked Sam out of the water. She threw him up onto the bank."

"Max did?" John was surprised, knowing that Jim wouldn't use those words unless that was exactly what Max had done. He hadn't thought that his tiny girl could heft around Sammy's larger form, much less throw him. But perhaps the strength had been fueled by fear and adrenaline. He knew of situations where that had happened. Hell, it had happened to him on occasion.

"But then she went after Mark," Jim continued. John could tell by the lengthy pause that Jim was still running the information through his mind, trying to get it straight and make some sense of it. "John, she dove under the water, going after Mark. Me and some others went in too when she and Mark didn't resurface."

"What?" John was alarmed, even though Jim had assured him Max was well.

"John, we were in that water for over three minutes looking for them and the next thing I know, they're coming up in the middle of the lake," Jim's voice reflected the astonishment that he still felt. "Considering that she dove for Mark before we even got to the water, she had to have been underwater for over five minutes! Now how on earth can anyone hold their breath underwater for five minutes, especially when they're swimming and dragging a child to safety?" Jim sighed and rubbed at the tip of his nose. "And what's more, when we got out to them, she was breathing for Mark, mouth to mouth, you know. And she wasn't even fazed. She wasn't panting or gasping for air." He paused, waiting for some reaction from John.

It was a calmness that he wasn't expecting. "What did Max say about it?"

"Not much," Jim admitted. "Only that she'd been practicing holding her breath for longer increments ever since she was little. And that she's a real strong swimmer."

"That she is," John agreed, knowing from witnessing her down at local outdoor swimming pools from time to time. "I think Jim," John continued after a moment. He wanted to say this as carefully as possible. "I think that it was probably a combination of adrenaline, fear and level headedness. Max seems to have a good bead on where demons are. Some sixth sense or something." He could imagine Jim nodding, which the man actually was. "She is a strong swimmer, like I said. Did she say if the sprite had dragged them out to the middle of the lake?"

"No she said she swam away from it," Jim clarified. He inhaled deeply. "You know, she wasn't exactly in the middle of the lake. But she and Mark were a good distance from the shore."

John chuckled. "There you go then Jim. You just got too excited over this whole thing and your memory's playing tricks on you."

"Oh don't pull that on me," Jim growled. "My memory is as good as it ever was. But I suppose you could be right. I just didn't look forward to having to explain to you how I promised I'd look after your kids and then this happens."

"It would probably have happened if Dean and I had been there," John stressed. "It's not the first time the kids or I have gotten in the way of demons or ghouls."

"Amen to that," Jim smiled. "So, how's the job going?"

"We're about wrapped up," John replied, easily shifting conversational gears. "Dean found the grave and we're heading out as soon as it's fully dark to salt and burn the bones."

"Why didn't you do it immediately?" Jim questioned.

"Funeral," was the succinct reply. Jim nodded again. Talk turned to more mundane things and Jim never noticed as a pair of small feet crept away from the window, where a little figure had listened to the entire conversation with enhanced hearing.

"Everything okay Dad?" Dean asked sleepily. The phone call had woken him up, but after John had received confirmation that Sam and Max were okay, he'd dozed off again, knowing that they had a long night ahead of them.

"Everything's fine son," John confirmed. He quickly explained all the pertinent details to his son. And even though he didn't say so, Dean saw immediately that Pastor Jim had raised some valid concerns about Max, no matter what John might have indicated to the contrary.

"You know, it might be just like you said Dad," he shrugged. "Adrenaline can do amazing things for a body. In fact, Max has probably crashed and is sleeping like the dead, right now." Little did he know that that was the furthest thing from Max's mind right then.

John nodded ad then glanced at his watch. They wouldn't be able to solve anything right then. Sundown would be soon and they'd be on their way. "Feel like getting some grub?"

"Why not?" Dean grinned. He pushed himself off the bed and pulled his jean jacket off the opened weapons bag. They had John's bag already in the car. Dean zipped up the bag and hefted it to his shoulder. They probably wouldn't be returning to the hotel room, so it made sense to pack the stuff out to the car.

Neither man said much over dinner. One, for fear of getting caught discussing paranormal matters and be thought of as nuts. Two, there wasn't really anything to discuss. They both knew very well what they were doing and worked well together.

They'd been digging for nearly two hours, getting more disgruntled as time went on. Dean's quips about bodies 'six feet under' were now more of a complaint. Aside from the occasional grunt and the sound of metal sliding through rock and debris, the night was quiet. Until John's cell phone rang, startling them both. Dean was so surprised; he whirled around, until he recognized the familiar chirp of technology.

John was surprised himself. He'd only given this new cell phone number to one person, Pastor Jim. And checking the screen, that's who the call was from. But the familiar little voice on the other end of the line wasn't what he expected.

"Max?" he glanced worriedly at Dean, who returned the look. "How did you get this number?"

"I watched Pastor Jim punch it in," Max lied. There was no need to reveal to John that she'd used supersensitive hearing to accentuate the beep tones that Jim used.

"You were spying on him?" John demanded. Dean smirked, knowing that Max was in for a talking to. Dean never liked being on the receiving end of his father's displeasure, but he sure didn't mind when his dad gave it to someone else. Especially one of his sibling's.

"I was not," Max denied hotly. "If he'd looked, he would have seen me standing right there!" Of course Max didn't designate where the there was. It wasn't her fault that Jim hadn't looked out his window.

The indignation in her voice knocked the wind out of his anger. "What did you need Max?"

Max decided to get right on with it. "When are you guys coming back?" she demanded, though her voice was off. John sighed. He knew when they'd driven off that Max didn't want to stay behind. But he'd felt that the time with other people would be good for her. He knew that Sam was eagerly looking forward to it. He supposed, with the look of defeat and abandonment he'd seen in his rearview mirror as he and Dean had pulled away, he should be glad that she hadn't taken off again.

"Well, we have to finish robbing this grave," he enumerated for her, "then salt and burn the bones. We'll check to make sure that got it and then we'll be on our way back."

"So tomorrow then?"

John chuckled. "Yes Max, tomorrow, if all is good here. If not we might be a few more days."

"But salting and burning should do it?" she demanded, trying to pin him down. Max knew from experience that if John said something definitive then he'd back those words up.

"Do you really miss us that much?" John smiled into the phone. There was a warmth spreading through his chest that had nothing to do with the physical exertion of the last few hours.

"No," Max whispered. "Well yeah. I mean of course we miss you guys. It's just…"

"What's going on?" John demanded, alert to his daughter's tendency to bluntness. This wishy-washy crap was not her nature.

"Well," she hesitantly tried again. She really didn't want John to be offended. "I just, don't really know anybody."

"That was the point of you staying behind," John reminded her gruffly. "So you could meet new people."

"Well…"

"Let me talk to her Dad," Dean grunted, holding out his hand for the phone, while he rested his forearm on the tip of his shovel handle. John rolled his eyes. Somehow over the year that Max had been with them, she and Dean had formed an unholy alliance. Somehow, Dean just got her. He knew what to say to her to get her to admit what was bothering her. It shouldn't have surprised him though. Each child had their strengths. Dean's was his flirtatious manner and amazing good looks. Not that any of the children were ugly. It was just that Sam managed a lost puppy dog look that had older ladies melting over him. And Max, well her blunt announcements, coupled with the innocent little face made people want to shelter her from ever realizing just what the little girl was saying. After a moment's hesitation, he handed the cell over to Dean.

"Hey Max!" he said excitedly, obviously glad for a short break. "Is it true you threw Sam out of the water?"

"Hey Dean," she grinned. She knew her big brother was going to relish this.

"'Cause if you did, kudos," Dean continued. "I can't believe you managed to get your arms around that pudge of his."

"Actually I didn't," Max corrected him, then realized how bad that made Sam's baby fat look. "I mean, I didn't have time to. I just kind of grabbed his belt with one hand and threw."

"Oh man," Dean was truly astounded. That admission just made Max all that much cooler in his estimation. Then Max laughed. "What? What is it?"

"Actually Sammy's kind of pissed at me," Max admitted. Dean waited to hear what she'd accomplished in his absence. Her voice was faint with uncertainty, but there was a hint of amusement there too. "See, when I grabbed him, I kind of got more than his pants."

"Oh oh," Dean cackled, knowing precisely what she meant. "You wedgied him!"

"Almost atomic," she purred. Dean was laughing so hard at the thought of the look on Sammy's face when she did that. Especially in front of other people. Then Max was serious again. "But now he's not talking to me."

With that admission, Dean thought he might have the crux of the problem. "And you don't know any of the other kids?" He heard her soft grunt of assent. "And I bet you really don't feel like hanging out with the old fogy's, huh?" Dean felt a light slap on his arm and glanced at his father, giving him a teasing grin. John glared at him for a moment, before going back to digging, muttering 'old fogy, my ass', under his breath. Dean grinned more widely.

"No," Max was glad to finally be able to get this off her chest. "All they wanna do is talk about old wars and police actions and political stuff. And making babies, and what tastes good in a pie and sewing."

"Woah! Woah there!" Dean shouted, his mind fixing on one thing. "Who's been talking to my baby sister about making babies?" he demanded heatedly. John's head shot up and he stared intently at his son.

"No one," Max giggled. After her health classes the previous year, she knew some of what was entailed in procreation. "But the women were talking to each other."

"Oh, that's okay," Dean relented. "Just as long as some pimply faced kid isn't trying to lure you behind a woodshed." John relaxed and again began digging.

"I'd kick his butt," Max replied drolly. And she would have.

"Oh speaking of," Dean recalled something. "Isn't the martial arts seminar tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Max sighed. "But I don't need it."

"Hey now, don't say that," Dean whined. "I love those seminars."

"Then why aren't you here for it?" Max demanded, suddenly petulant. But then she was immediately repentant. "I'm sorry. I know you guys had to take this job."

"Damn right we did," Dean agreed easily. He knew that Max wasn't upset with him. "So I'll tell you what you do. Tomorrow morning, get up, stuff your face, march into that seminar and kick all the other kids' butts. Including Sammy's."

"I can't."

"Yes you can Max," Dean encouraged her. It had been a long time since she'd been so shy.

"No really I can't," she chuckled. "Sam took his name off the list."

That caused Dean's eyebrows to shoot up. "Uh oh," he muttered. "Dad's not gonna like that." John glanced up again, slightly irritated at the constant interruptions to his rhythm. Dean dropped the phone away from his mouth and repeated to his father what Max had just said to him. John shrugged and went back to digging.

"Tell Max to tell Sammy boy that I said to take the class or I'll be kicking butt," he said loudly. Dean grinned and pulled the phone back up to his mouth.

"Did you hear that?" he asked of Max, but her giggling confirmed that she did. "But seriously Max. Take the class, even if you think you don't need it. If nothing else, it'll give you something to do while you wait for us. You won't have to sit with the old goats, or listen to any more Holly Homemaker shit."

"Dean! Language!"

"Sorry sir!"

"I guess that'd be okay," Max sighed, giving in.

"So what are you gonna do tomorrow?" Dean pushed.

"I'm gonna get up."

"Yeah."

"And stuff my face," she giggled again.

"And then what?"

"Then I'm gonna kick the other kids butts," Max recounted.

"That's my girl," Dean crowed. "I'll tell you what; the old man's starting to fade here." He deftly turned his back on the momentary glare from his sire and continued talking. "I'll call you once we're on our way, okay?"

"Okay," Max sighed. "Say goodbye to Dad for me."

"Will do kiddo." Dean hung up the phone and tossed the phone to the bag near his feet.

"Faded huh?" John grunted as he threw another pile of dirt out of the hole. "Get your ass over here and I'll show you who's faded!" Dean grinned and jumped back into the hole.

"Yes sir!"

The next morning, reports of the strange disturbances plaguing the town had been reported as having suddenly ceased shortly after midnight. Talk ambled around town, as it has a way of doing, stopping in at coffee shops, diners, the local barber shop, and all places where the entity known as gossip resided. At once such diner, John and Dean were enjoying not only their breakfast, but the far-fetched, at least to them, theories blazing around about what had caused the disturbances. Dean's favorite by far was that it had been the weather. John was more inclined to go with troubled teens acting out their Gothic fantasies. That one was much more believable. Though if it held, then he was sure that there was a pack of teens somewhere in this town, already targeted for reprimands.

He waited patiently for Dean to finish mopping up his egg yolk with the last of his toast. He took one last swallow of coffee and threw the paper napkin he held onto his plate. "Ready to get out of here?" Dean nodded, also finishing his coffee. John exited the booth they had chosen and moved to the counter to pay the bill. Dean grabbed up some sugar packets, stuffing them in his jacket. He knew his father wouldn't comment, because he did the same thing. Every little bit helped.

They crossed the parking lot to the Impala and John threw Dean the keys, also while fishing out his cell phone. They got in the car and Dean started the engine while John dialed the number to Jim's place.

"Hello?" Jim's voice was bright and alert, as it usually was at all hours of the day.

"Jim, it's John," he announced unnecessarily. "How's it going?"

"Oh John, not bad," Jim replied. "What's up?"

"I was wondering if you could get Max for me," John asked. "Dean promised her last night that we'd call to let her and Sam know when we were headed back."

"Yeah, sure thing," Jim agreed, and then paused. "Wait. Last night?" John grinned, knowing that it would give his friend pause.

"That's when it was," John grinned, loving getting the better of his old friend. "I also thought I asked you to keep this number private."

"I did!" Jim protested. "I didn't tell anyone."

"Well, maybe not told," John teased. He could see Dean grinning out of the corner of his eye. "But Max sure as hell saw you."

"She saw me?" Jim demanded. "But how? I checked…"

"Apparently not well enough," John chided. "Sounds to me like you're slipping, old timer."

"I-!" Jim was at a loss for words. He knew very well that he'd checked before dialing John's cell. He'd even placed a few other calls immediately after so someone couldn't come along and hit redial to find John.

"It's okay," John relented. "Just as long as it was one of my kids."

"But I still can't see how she did it," Jim protested. "I checked."

"Is she around?" John reiterated. "You can ask her yourself."

"I- yeah, she's around," Jim remembered. "She and the other kids just finished breakfast. We're starting the seminar soon."

"Can you get her for me?"

"Sure," Jim agreed. "I'll call you back."

"Or Max can," John couldn't resist one more dig. He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard a very offensive word as the phone was hung up. He let out a bark of laughter and Dean answered with his own, knowing very well what had his father so amused.

"So ol' Pastor Jim's finally losing it?" he queried. John shook his head.

"Not at all," John shrugged. "But sometimes you got to get your kicks when you can."

"Right on."

They drove on in silence, since John didn't feel like letting Dean listen to any of his punk rock right then. Dean didn't mind, he was planning on waiting until after Max called them anyway. What was the point of turning on some good tunes only to have to turn them back off right away? And sure enough, Max didn't disappoint. She called back almost immediately.

"Hey Max," John greeted her. "Just lettin' you know we're on our way. We should be back by this afternoon."

"Okay," Max chuckled. "I kind of figured that out for myself."

"I know, but Dean promised he'd call and he's busy driving right now," John explained. "So, are you looking forward to the martial arts seminar?"

"Yeah," she sounded almost bored. "Hang on." John waited for a few moments before she came back on the line. "Sorry," Max apologized. "Lindsey asked me a question."

"Who's Lindsey?" John tried to remember someone by that name but he was drawing a blank.

"Matt Shewchuck's sister," Max told him. "She asked me to sit with her at breakfast, last night."

"Finally made a friend, huh?" John smiled, glad that she was at last at ease.

"Yeah, she wanted to thank me for saving Matt yesterday," Max said. "Even though he's an annoying little rodent. Her words, not mine!" she exclaimed before John could berate her. "We ended up talking about how annoying brothers can be."

"And did you do anything else?" John wondered. It was nice to have this mundane reality to fall into once in a while. It helped give him a time out, a moment to recharge his batteries and let go of the fierceness once in a while. It terrified him that maybe one day, this business; this revenge would consume him so completely, as he'd seen it do to others in their line of business.

"We had hot chocolate," Max recounted, her voice light and happy. "And then we got into a pillow fight. Then we watched some movies with Owen and Marianna." There was a muffled noise. "Oh, Sam wants to talk to you."

"Put him on sweetie." He waited for Sam to take the phone.

"Dad?" John was surprised at how much whine he could already hear in Sam's tone. "Do I really have to take this seminar?"

"Yes Sam, you really have to," he answered sternly. He continued, heading off Sam's put-out protest. "Before you even start that, because I said so, because I'm your father and because it's for your own good! Understand?"

"Yeah," Sam mumbled. There was just something about his attitude, his tone that snapped at John. It was almost verging on disrespect and it angered him much more than anything else Sam could ever do.

"I said do you understand, Sam!" his voice mustered all of the steel edge of anger that coursed through him and he wasn't surprised to notice Dean snapping to attention behind the wheel. At least his eldest responded to the authoritative ring in his command.

"Yes sir!"

Once he had Sam's capitulation, he allowed himself to soften once more. "Look Sam-!" he began, but his boy cut him off.

"We have to go Dad," Sam interjected quickly, his voice quavering slightly. "Bye." John heard the distinctive click of the phone in his ear and with a sigh, turned off the cell phone. He slid it back into his jacket pocket and leaned back against his seat. He had the nauseating feeling that another war was about to start on his home front. One that he wasn't sure he could win.

After another brief pit stop, Dean and John pulled into the parking lot of the city park, the place where Jim Murphy rented out and arranged hunting seminars. Everyone knew that although Jim's church was a safe place to be, the Pastor couldn't always explain to the more unenlightened members of his church, just what they were up to. Hence the need to find other places to explore the depths of their jobs. Dean and John grabbed their bags, since they never knew what to expect exactly and it didn't hurt to be prepared, and headed towards the largest congregation of people.

This park was ideally suited to Jim's purposes. There was a wooded area that partially surrounded a lake. But all along the waterfront, gazebos and natural amphitheaters had been set up. People could gather to talk about weapons, curses, exorcisms and be able to see anything coming from a long distance off. And since the park was regularly used for such things as birthday parties, graduation celebrations and picnics, certain spaces had to be rented out or reserved. And once they were, most townspeople were good about not disturbing the area, since it was the height of rudeness to crash someone else's party. Not that it hadn't happened occasionally. But the womenfolk who weren't hunters, just married to them, were getting awfully good at distracting those folks.

John waved at a few people he knew, but ignored their shouts to join them. No one took offense, knowing that John would want to check on his kids first. That too was established routine. So they simply offered, then turned back to continue what they were doing as John passed them by.

They headed deeper into the woods, to the west of the lake, where there was a clearing. That's where the seminars would be taking place. If the weather was inclement, then Jim usually allowed the seminars in the church basement. But as they neared the clearing, the sound of bodies thudding against one another was heard. There were shouts of encouragement growing clearer as well. Finally, they stepped out of the shady woods, into the slightly filtered light shining through the sky.

John scanned the crowds, sectioned off into three groups. It looked to him as if the beginner's class had some new additions this year, none that he recognized, even though there were a few adults there. That group was closest to where he and Dean had come out. His eyes moved onto the next group.

"There's Sammy," Dean announced. He gestured and John could see Sam's tow-colored head, as he sat among a group of boys, paying minimal attention to the instructor. "I don't see Max, though."

"Neither do I," John grunted. To be sure, he continued scanning the other crowd, the advanced class, which comprised of a few adults. They were moving around the demonstration that was going on for the beginners, heading towards Sam. He should know where Max was at.

Both men tried to skirt as many kids as they could, but in the end, they had to walk in front of a few to reach Sam. He glanced up behind him, just before they reached him and a grin broke out on his face.

"Finally," he grunted in obvious relief. He made to jump to his feet, but John motioned him to stay put as he hunkered down beside the boy, unwilling to disrupt the instructor. Dean followed suit. Sam leaned close to his father. "Can we go then?"

John shook his head. He knew Sam wasn't eager for the classes that he insisted upon, but he figured that at this point, the boy should know better than to even ask. "Where's Max?" John asked quietly. Sam's eyes grew dark and John thought he saw a flash of something. Anger? Jealousy perhaps? The younger boy jerked his head towards the advanced group and turning, John could just make out Max's slight form wedged between some adults. From the direction they'd waked in at, both John and Dean had missed seeing her.

"She's in advanced already?" Dean asked with a low whistle. It had taken him some years to attain that level and he'd only passed the instructor's final test two summers before, though he had encouraged Dean to continue working on the moves.

"Yeah," Sammy admitted petulantly. "They started her in beginners, but it took like five minutes and she had Mrs. Gambon on her butt." Dean smiled; proud that Max hadn't exaggerated her accomplishments. He made a slight gesture with his hand.

"I'm gonna go check on how she's doing," he whispered to his father. He moved swiftly and silently away from them. John, although he wanted to check on Max too, thought that Sam might take his leaving as an offense, or an excuse to leave the group as well. Besides, he could see Max from where he was at.

Since the instructor, Alex Cardston for the intermediate's, was simply talking and demonstrating things that John already knew; he let his eyes follow his eldest son. Although Dean tried, he was unable to sneak up on Max. The little girl twisted around when he was within five feet of her vicinity and a huge grin broke out on her face. Mindful of the talking instructor, Mr. Lang for the advanced group, she simply scooted to the side and waved for Dean to join her. They whispered together for a moment and Max leaned back and waved at John. John returned her wave with a small salute, and then turned his attention back to Alex. He wondered if he was going to get to see either child in action, since he wanted to evaluate their skills for himself.

It didn't take long for Lang to see that Dean had joined them. He welcomed his old student back with a few choice jokes. Most everyone in that class knew or knew of Dean Winchester, though some hadn't yet made the connection when Max had announced her surname. There were some quick murmurs about the hunt John and Dean had completed and he confirmed for them that it was successful. There were congratulations and then the class continued.

Towards the end, Lang announced that the advanced class would be demonstrating the moves they'd learned that day, for the beginner's class. Sort of like encouragement for what those people would learn down the road if they chose to hang in there and stick to it. He even asked Dean if he'd like to participate, which Dean, never one for giving up an opportunity for showing off, accepted.

And then John and Sam made their way over. Sam was still looking disgruntled and John mulish. Dean and Max sensed immediately that there had been a few harsh words between them. But Martin Lang dispelled that mood, at least on John's part with his swift praise of Max.

"Hey John! How the hell are you?" he greeted, holding out his hand. John shook it and nodded.

"Just fine," he answered. He took his hand away and held out his arm to give Max a hug, to which she seemed to be squeezing him a little harder than usual. It seemed she really had missed him and Dean. He couldn't say the same for Sammy. "So how'd Max do?"

"Honestly," Martin paused. He had been a teacher, both of martial arts and high school physical education, before his brother had succumbed to the mischief of a poltergeist. And now, as then, he was slow to praise, rather wanting to always encourage his students to go further, try harder. But when praise was due, he couldn't deny it. "Max is the most naturally gifted student I've seen in my life."

Hey," Dean protested mockingly, even though most of them knew how hard he'd had to work at first to get through Martin's grueling sessions. "Even better than me?" he demanded teasingly. Martin smiled and nodded. He looked down at the girl, who didn't seem to be paying any attention.

"She doesn't need my class John," he told him truthfully. "Not only does she know the moves, but she was able to improvise her way out of situations, using her opponent's weaknesses and in some cases, their strengths against them. And nothing I said seemed to ruffle her feathers. She definitely was keeping a cool head while she was fighting."

John, who succumbed to the same line of reasoning that Martin did on teaching, just nodded. "That's great to hear. But there is a difference between fighting in a controlled environment and fighting for your life."

"That's very true," Martin agreed. He'd said the same thing to all his classes.

"Actually, there's no such thing as a controlled environment," Max interjected, proving that she was very much aware of the topic of conversation.

Martin, intrigued by the child that seemed way too advanced for her age, slouched down a little to look Max in her eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

"Exactly what I said," Max declared with an impish grin. "Even in the classroom setting, like you had, you didn't have control," Max pointed out. "The only reason that nothing bad happened, was because each person participating made an active choice to confine themselves to the rules you presented before the fighting started." Both Martin and John were nodding. Martin made a rolling motion with one hand, indicating that she should go on. "As soon as one person was pushed far enough, they'd begin reacting, instead of acting. When you react, the parameters of your choices begin to change, influenced by emotion, mindset and other things. That's when things get 'out of control'." She made air quotes as she said the last.

"So if you were in a real fight," Martin asked, "what would you do? How would you try to remain in the parameters I set up for you?"

"First of all," Max drawled, "I wouldn't get into a situation where the rules were set in stone. Things happen, things change and I have to be ready to roll with the punches. You have to know how you're going to react in any given situation. And then that way, if a situation presents itself, you won't have to stop and think things out. When the parameters change, you automatically change with them."

"So like if you're fighting one guy," Dean offered up an example, "you'd fight in one style, but if two other guys with weapons showed up, you need to use a different style?"

Max half shrugged. "It's not really about styles. It's like, if I'm fighting a single guy and then a guy with a knife shows up, I know that I have some time to work it if he's in front of me. If he comes in behind me, he needs to be dealt with immediately. And then if another guy comes in and he has a gun, then I'd want to use the first guy as a shield. And then depending on what's around me, find a weapon of my own. And if another guy shows up," she continued, but John held up his hands, a wry grin on his face.

"That's a lot of guys," he sighed. "But I think we understand what you're saying. Stay fluid." Max nodded.

"But you know," Sammy finally spoke up, "it's not like your going to be attacked by a gang of street thugs," he pointed out. Martin was already shaking his head.

"In this day and age, you never know," he groused.

"Yeah, but with Dad and Dean around, who's going to attack us kids?" he demanded.

"They aren't always around Sam," Max pointed out quietly. John and Dean glanced at one another, both hearing the disappointment in Max's voice still over being left behind. John wondered just how long Max would hold a grudge about this. And why he was worrying it like a dog with a bone. Max was just going to have to face facts and see that there were times when they couldn't always be together.

"You know," Martin, not really oblivious to the undercurrents, but more than willing to move past them, was thoughtful. "That is an element of fighting that I should broach. When your outnumbered, what to do." He turned to Max. "Is that something you ever worked on before? In your previous classes, I mean?"

"All the time sir," she answered with a small grin.

"Maybe we could make that part of the demonstration," Martin mused. Something for the other advanced members to look forward to." He turned to John. "If you don't mind, that is."

"If Max is up to it, then certainly," John allowed. He looked down at Max, but her face was lowered. He nudged at her shoulder and she gave a short, jerky nod. He knew that he'd have to talk to her later. Sammy however, was not so timid about making his voice heard in this instance.

"But I thought we were leaving tonight?" he sounded eager, yet disappointed. John turned to his son.

"Sam, we drove like bats outta hell to get to that job. We spent all night at it, barely got any sleep, and then drove back here. I'd like at least one night to relax, as much as I can before we take off again, okay?" It wasn't really a question and Sam knew that. But the boy nodded anyway.

"Well good," Martin clapped one hand on John's shoulder. "I hear we've got spare ribs for dinner tonight."

Dinner was indeed spare ribs and potato salad and all the typical accoutrements that went with such a dinner to feed so many people. John and his family had found a small table to sit at and though there were only four chairs, people who'd already finished eating, would drag a chair over to talk to John for a few minutes.

In truth John was enjoying himself. The food was good, the company comfortable and nothing seemed to be going to bother them this night. After dinner, there were the different demonstrations from the martial arts classes and then people would head off to find their beds, wherever that ended up being. John knew that they had the option of pitching a tent or finding a motel, and Jim had offered a room in his small parsonage, adjacent to the church. It was such a nice night out that John was seriously considering the tent option.

But as all was well with John, the children were not so content. Sam was still upset with his father for some imagined transgression. Max was alternating between chatty and silent. And Dean was trying to figure out what the hell was going on with his siblings. He knew that he'd kick Sammy's butt later, for acting like such a little brat. And Max, he put her behavior down to that hopeless shyness that seemed to take hold whenever a newcomer was in her vicinity. He wasn't sure that there was anything that anyone could do about it. But he would have thought that after a year living with them, she would have felt more secure about things. But that obviously wasn't so.

And then things got turned on their head. Another hunter, Dean couldn't quite recall his name, had come up to talk to John about an old job. He'd encountered something similar and had wanted to know if John knew a better way of handling the spirit. Before they got heavily into the discussion, John had introduced the children. And Dean noticed that Max was completely at ease with the guy. He wondered if she'd met him earlier, but their manner seemed to indicate that they hadn't.

So Dean spent the rest of the meal and desultory conversations watching her. Sometimes, more often than not, she'd freeze up. And Dean was wracking his brain trying to figure out what the catalyst was for her behavior. It was only when a younger man, on leave from his first tour of duty overseas, stopped by the table, still in his fatigues, did Dean realize how it all came together. He could almost see Max shrinking in her chair, trying desperately not to be noticed by this guy. It flashed in his brain. Every single person that Max had shied away from had some sort of military background or connection.

Dean turned his eyes to his little sister. She was resolutely avoiding contact. It finally made sense, her behavior, now. He remembered that she had once told him that her family was all Army. How terrified she must be that maybe someone would recognize her. That maybe someone, feeling that old loyalty to a unit member, ignoring a child's accusations, would send her back to that monster of a father. He wasn't sure that she had a legitimate cause for worry around these people, but looking at it from her point of view, knew that she would worry. Dean knew himself that fear wasn't rational.

"Hey Max," he whispered, poking her in the shoulder. "Why don't we go see if Martin needs a hand setting anything up?" Her head shot up so fast and she was nodding before Dean had even finished the question. He smiled and pushed his chair away from the table. John stopped in mid sentence and looked enquiringly at his son. "We're gonna go help set up," he informed his father, and then turned to his brother. There was no time like the present for that butt kicking that Sam seemed to need. "Come on Sam."

Sam's eyes darted back and forth between his father and his brother. He didn't want to stay with his father right then, but he saw something flash in Dean's eyes and he didn't want to go with his brother either.

But at least with Max there it would be the lesser of two evils. If Sam was quick, he could abate whatever Dean was pissed off about. He stood and skirted around the table, leaving his father to talk. The kids hurried back through the woods, not quite needing flashlights yet, though it was darker now in the trees than it had been earlier. There were floodlights set up in the clearing and the light of those coming on beckoned them forward. But just as they were about to break through the canopy of foliage, Dean gestured for Max to go on. She glanced at Sam, shrugged and continued walking. Sam sighed.

"What?" he demanded of his older brother.

Dean didn't waste any time. "What the ell's the matter with you? I understand Max giving us some grief, but what the hell is up with you?"

"What?" Sam felt his only option, like any other teenaged boy was to go on the attack. "Max gets to be pissy but I don't? She's the one that signed up for the stupid course. I didn't. Dad made me. He never listens to me Dean. He just makes me do what he wants and then tells me all that crap about it being for my own good!"

Dean just lifted one eyebrow, crossing his arms, his hips shifting with the indignance he felt on his father's behalf. "That's because it really is for your own good," he defended heatedly. "You heard us earlier. Do you really want to be snatched by someone or attacked and have no way of defending yourself. Even if Dad and I are with you. What if something happens to us and you're the only one left?"

"And what about Max?" Sam demanded, his own arms crossing. "Surely the little golden girl will save us all."

"Are you still pissed about that?" Dean demanded incredulously. Yeah, he could see where the pride might be stung by being saved by a younger child. Maybe even because Max was a girl. "Damn it Sammy, you should be down on your knees thanking God that Max was there! From what Pastor Jim said, everyone else was too far away. You and that kid could have drowned!"

The words seemed to take some of the steam from Sam's anger. He seemed to deflate a bit and his arms dropped to his sides. "I know," he whispered brokenly. "It's just…"

"Just what Sam?" Dean sighed, trying to soften his tone. Whatever happened, he couldn't stay mad at his brother forever.

"We were just, kicking the ball around," Sam frowned. "And then that was happening. It was so freaky. To be so normal and then having that thing shoved in my face."

"We're not normal Sam," Dean pointed out quietly. Sam glanced away, looking out at the people starting to gather in the clearing.

"But why can't we be?" Sam protested. "Bad things happen to other people all the time, but they go on living their lives. They don't live for revenge."

"You think that that is what Dad's doing?" Dean asked, any hint of jocularity gone from his features. His hazel eyes bored straight into Sammy's. "You think that after all we've seen, and all the stuff that Dad knows about, that it's just vengeance for him?"

"Isn't it?" Sam demanded, a hint of uncertainty tingeing his voice.

"I can't lie," Dean sighed. "It's part of it. But Sammy, this is who Dad was before that damn thing took Mom. Why do you think he became a Marine? 'Cause he looks good in a uniform? 'Cause he thought what a perfect way to catch the babes?" Sam smirked at that thought. "No Sam, Dad just needs to help people. And there are tons of policemen, firemen and military types out there. But not so many who know the truth, like we do. And it's a real threat."

"I know that Dean," Sam pouted. "It's just…" he trailed off again, unable to explain the conflict gnawing at his mind. But Dean, smart big brother that he was, knew exactly what Sammy needed. He uncrossed his arms, taking a half step forward. He wrapped one arm around his little brother and tugged him forward.

"I know kid," he sighed. "Just take things as they come, okay?" Sam nodded and they let the matter drop.


	16. Perfect People

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident as the story progresses, but much further down the road.)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

A/N- Just to let people know, the bar in this chapter is made up, although the town of Biscoe does exist, just as Reed Gold Mine State Historical Site.

A/N2- This chapter is brought to you by the word **SIMPLE**. I know that may seem strange, but that word is the one millionth word that I have written since March of 2003. (And yes I am such a geek that I sat down and figured it out.) Of course, that includes both my fan fiction and original works. But then again, that doesn't count everything that I wrote from 1987-2002, since none of that stuff is on my computer. Oh well, it still feels like an accomplishment for me!

When It Changes

Chapter Sixteen

Perfect People

_Shorty's Bar_

_Biscoe, North Carolina_

"I still can't believe those back flips," Sam enthused as John pulled the Impala into the parking lot of the bar he was to meet his contact at. Max sighed and rolled her eyes. The demonstration that she'd participated in had been three days ago. They'd left the morning after, John having given in to all three children's urging. All for varied reasons of course. But once they'd gotten on the road, her performance was all Sam could talk about.

At first, John and Dean had joined in, asking where Max had learned certain moves. How she'd thought to get out of a certain hold. In all, they'd been very impressed with her and her ability. They could see why Martin believed her beyond his ability to teach her anything new.

But the more Sam waxed poetic over each single movement that she'd made; they began to get tired of it as well. It was hard for them to figure out, on the surface why Sammy was all of a sudden in Max's corner, until one took into account that he was a teenage boy. Little about him or the family was typical, but hormones seemed to be the great equalizer. So while Sam had been upset with Max for saving him from the water sprite in an undignified manner, and showing him up in front of the other kids at the seminar that he had no wish to attend in the first place; she was still his sister and he was damned proud of her.

"It was no big deal Sam," Max sighed once again and she unlocked her car door, eager to get away from the droning annoyance that was her brother.

"Give it a rest Sam," John warned. Sam dutifully shut his mouth. Even he knew that he'd just about pushed past the point of no return. The tension lining his family's voices when they spoke to him was warning enough that they were tired of the subject.

But none of them quite as much as Max. Before the demonstration had begun, she'd tried to figure out how much she could get away with, while keeping certain skills and abilities to herself. She knew from her life before and from rescuing Sam that she had a preternatural speed. Thankfully it wasn't from any dark entity possessing her, but from what she believed to be feline DNA. And when she'd displayed it before the gathering to rescue Sam, well she'd had no choice. But luckily for her, they'd collectively believed that they just hadn't noticed where she'd run to the lake from.

Her abnormal strength, which was another thing to hide. Sure, her family knew how strong she was and she occasionally had made the pretense of working out with one of the boys, or John to create the illusion that she had some basis to the power strikes that she was capable of. But with strangers, she pulled back on the strength as much as she could. But the other things, the instinctive and deft way that she dodged attacks, she couldn't explain. An eleven year old wasn't supposed to have highly evolved senses yet. A simple statement to the teacher that so-and-so was telegraphing their moves was sufficient. And thank whatever Supreme Being that no one noticed her telescopic-like eyesight. Her night vision, was something she believed to be another by-product of the feline DNA

On all, it had turned out to be a nerve-wracking experience for her. She'd had so much to think about, and yet was determined to prove herself at the same time. In the end, she'd quickly knocked out a few of the shorter adults, the ones that were easier to reach, got hold of a fallen tree branch and used the weapon to take out the few remaining competitors. When Martin asked how she'd managed to knock the adults out with only one punch, she explained that there was a nerve in the face that ran underneath the jaw and a quick, sharp jab to it interrupted the blood flow, causing a temporary unconsciousness. She wasn't about to tell him that she was able to hit hard enough that she knocked a person's brain around their skull, which was actually how concussions happened.

And now, they were heading into the bar to meet John's informant, who had the digs on another job in the area and to get them all some sort of refreshment. The kids found a table, towards the front wall of the building, knowing they might have to leave quickly, if John was in that sort of mood. Their father moved off to the bar, not even asking what the kids wanted to drink, since he already knew. Max sighed as her legs twitched. They'd been cooped up in the car once more and she wanted to get up and stretch her limbs a bit. But she knew that she had to stay put, unless of course she could convince Dean to walk with her. But that meant convincing Sam too, because Dean wouldn't leave his little brother alone in a strange place when their father was preoccupied with something else, as he was now.

"What's the matter Max?" Dean demanded, a little cranky himself. He just wanted his father to get the information and then find them a motel. He wanted a little down time to himself and if he had to lock himself in the bathroom on some pretense, he'd do it. It had annoyed him more than normally that he hadn't been able to talk to John alone yet about what he'd noticed about Max and the other people gathered at Pastor Jim's. He'd tried once, before they'd left, but Sam had interrupted them. And so, he'd been forced to sit in the car, listening to his brother yammer on about the one thing he didn't feel free to discuss completely. He didn't feel bad about that, the fact that he wanted to talk to his Dad behind her back. He was concerned about her, but knew from past experience that she'd blow him off or worse, freeze up, while that look of petrification came over her face.

All that time when he was sitting or driving, with certain thoughts whirling around his head had given Dean something of a headache. It wasn't that he wasn't capable of deep thought; he just preferred not to go there too often. It was almost as if he felt that he needed to save that hard thinking for when it truly mattered. He could coast through most of his life, but knew that when the situation called for it, he had to be at his sharpest. He had to be able to figure things out quickly and correctly. And knowing what was bothering Max and not being able to rectify the situation immediately, in this case, handing the problem off to John, really rankled at him.

"Too much car time," she answered easily. Dean nodded. His little sister was never one to be able to sit still for too long. Kind of like him in a way. He liked action, but at the same time, it wasn't like him. Sometimes there was nothing he loved more than to be in that Impala, with the roar of the engine thrumming through his body, the wind on his face, good tunes on the radio.

"Why don't you walk around a bit," he suggested. "Just stay in sight where someone can see you." Max nodded and pushed back her chair. She stretched before she moved away. A few minutes after that, John caught his eldest's attention and motioned him over. Dean hopped out of his chair and ambled over to the bar.

"Everything okay?" John demanded as he passed Dean three cans of soda.

"Just fine," he returned. "Max is just stretching her legs."

"All right," John nodded once. He gestured to the man he was meeting. "We're going to be a little bit, so you'll have to amuse yourselves."

"Will do sir," Dean grinned. He glanced over at the pool table at the far end of the main area. But first, he needed to get Sam and Max's drinks to them.

Max wandered around the bar for a few circuits. While it was a small town bar, it seemed larger than average and there was a good crowd filling it. There was plenty of seating, with tables, booths and stools at the bar. In the back corner by the restrooms, there were some arcade games. On the other side of the building there was a pool table. And it looked like they were set up for karaoke. Which was one thing that none of the Winchester's were into. But the games could prove interesting. Max fished a quarter out of her jeans and commenced to playing a game of pushing a little chomping yellow disk around after flashing pellets with other little blobs trying to destroy her disk guy. After she got the hang of it, and realized how worn out the control was, she began to have fun with it. After that, she looked through the songs on the jukebox. It was noisy enough in the bar, that she didn't think that added music was needed, so she just perused the selections. Finally, she wandered back to the table they'd chosen. She noted that John was still talking with his friend, both of them having moved off to a booth to get some privacy, but Sammy was alone at the table, nursing a cola.

"Where's Dean?" she asked as she sat. Sam pushed her cola over to her and she popped the top and took a long swig.

"He's over there hustling," Sam gestured with a sharp jerk of his head. Max glanced in the direction that Sam indicated, to see a small crowd gathered around the pool table. Dean was there and funny enough, some guy was placing a small amount of cash in his hand. Max concentrated enough to be able to pick Dean's crowing approval out of the rest of the crowd.

"He bet on his pool game?" she wondered aloud. Sam nodded, even though she hadn't meant to say it aloud. She turned to her brother. "Why?"

Sam let a disbelieving smirk grace his face. "We gotta make money somehow Max. Or did you think it grew on trees?" Max didn't bother to reply, except for a soft smack on his shoulder. Sam sighed, wishing he'd brought a book inside with him. He knew he could always go get one, but he didn't feel like letting Dad or Dean know where he was going. "At least he's winning this time."

"Do we really need money that badly?" Max asked hesitantly. Again Sam looked surprised at her. But seeing that she was serious, he let go of the indignant snarky remark he was going to make.

"I don't think we're bad off," he admitted. "But we're about out of Dad's last paycheck from the garage." Max nodded slowly. Of course that made sense. However, even though John, Dean and Sam never shared this with her, she was well aware of John's credit card fraud. Really, how many times could you see a man pull out a card and give someone a fake name without figuring that something was going on? She just had no idea that they worked other ways of making a little cash.

"Do you ever…?" she asked the open ended question, but gestured towards the pool table. Sammy shook his head.

"Dad won't let me," he admitted. "He only let Dean start a few years ago when Dean beat him at a game of pool. Boy, that pissed Dad off," he chuckled at the vague memory. Max cocked her head to the side. "Dad hates to lose," he expanded. Max grinned and nodded. From what she'd seen that was an understatement.

"But if you don't play pool, can't you do something else?" Max wanted to know.

"Like what?" Sam demanded. Max thought for a moment.

"Well, there's gotta be something you could do that you could make some money off of," she offered helplessly.

"Yeah well," Sam shrugged petulantly, "if there is, then I'm sure you'll be the genius that figures it out."

Max stared at him, lips slightly parted as his words clicked in his brain. She was a genius, among other Manticore given traits. And some of those things, truths that she'd hidden away were awe worthy, weren't they? Suddenly she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around Sam's neck. "Great idea Sammy." She let him loose and stood, grabbing at his arm. "Come on."

Sam jerked forward and just managed to snag his pop as Max dragged him from his chair. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

They didn't go far. Just up to the bar, where Max caught the bartender's attention. He ambled over, a soft smile on his face. He obviously didn't mind kids in his bar, as long as an adult was with them, which John had indicated to him that he was, by checking on them every ten minutes or so while he'd stood at the bar. "What can I get you kids? Another pop?"

"No thank you," Max refused with a sparkling smile. "Actually, I need your help sir."

The bartender, intrigued, leaned forward, resting his forearms on the varnished wood surface of the bar. "And what help would that be?"

"Well," Max drawled sweetly. "My brother and I were having a disagreement." She gestured to Sam who smiled sickly, unsure where Max was heading with this. "And I wondered if we could use your phone to settle it?"

"My phone?" The bartender, Jack by name, was not at all certain what the phone would prove. Max nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah," Max grinned. "See, Sammy said that there was no way that I could tell what number is punched into a phone just by listening to the beep tones. We even bet five bucks."

Suddenly, the old-timer that was seated to Max's immediate left, who had been avidly listening in, let out a bark of laughter, "That's a sure bet little missy," he chuckled, swiveling around to eye her and Sammy. "My old lady used to be able to do that." He glanced up at the bartender. "Had to be careful who I was callin', you know what I mean." He ended his outrageous statement with a wink.

"Yeah," Max nodded, but her entire stance, head up straight, shoulders back, and hands on hips and feet firmly planted, screamed confidence. "But I can do it on speed dial!" Three sets of eyes and more widened on that announcement.

"Pshaw," the older man grunted, waving a hand dismissively. "No one can do that."

"I can," Max stated emphatically. She turned back to the bartender. "Sammy doesn't believe me either. That was why I wanted to use your phone."

Someone a little further along down the line of bar stools leaned forward to call out, "I'd pay to see that. I'll take your bet little girl!" That started off a slew of bets, with not one single person backing Max. The bartender was hesitant though. Jack didn't mind friendly wagers going on in his bar. But there was no way he was going to let a little girl like this get bilked because she was trying to show off.

"Hey guys," he called out, garnering the group's attention. "I don't think this little girl can back that many bets." A glance at Sam's panicked eyes confirmed this thought. There was quiet for a moment and then someone called out.

"Hey, how about she does it, we pay up, she doesn't, and then she's gotta sing us a song off that damn boob tube thing-a-ma-jig?"

Jack let out a smile. No matter how many times he'd told Clint that it was a karaoke machine, the guy just refused to get it straight. He turned to Max. "How about it?"

Max looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, I can't promise that I sing real well, but okay!" There were a few cheers. They made room for Max and Sam to sit down and Jack pulled out the telephone. There were some suggestions about hiding the phone so that she couldn't see Jack punching in a number, but he just waved that suggestion away. He was already planning on using one of the preset speed dial numbers.

He glanced at Max and held his finger poised over the telephone pad. "You ready?" Max nodded. Jack punched the Speed dial key and then let his finger fall randomly. It ended up hitting the seven, which turned out to be one of his brewery suppliers. And one of the employees, of said company happened to be sitting at the bar, happily getting in on the action.

The beeps played loudly, especially since the group seemed to be holding their collective breaths. Max eyes darted upwards once and then she confidently reeled off the eleven digit number, since the phone automatically dialed in the area code, since the suppliers were in a different city. And as Jack expected, Aaron Bedford leaned forward.

"Hey!" he called out. "That's my number!" And sure enough, as soon as he'd said that, a pre-recorded message came over the line, since it was long past closing time. Jack put the telephone back in its receiver.

"I'll be damned," he whistled. "That was amazing." But even as he said it, he moved down the line, collecting Max's money for her. He was back swiftly and set the money into Max's waiting hand, but not before pulling a fin from his own pocket. "Can you do other stuff like that?"

"Stuff like what?" came another voice.

Dean was very happy to get away from the others, albeit for only a little while. He'd wandered over to the pool table and slapped down a couple quarters. The universal sign of asking for the next game. "I'll play winner," he offered to the two guys that were finishing their game. They glanced at each other, shrugged and accepted. Dean let one friendly game go on, continuing the winner plays next comer. He won, as he'd expected to.

Once he'd beaten his own father at this game, Dean had begun to hone his talent on the pool table whenever he had the chance. For some reason, the particularly tricky shots that stumped other players were easy as pie for him. And just to show off a bit, he fooled around with some trick shots, which suitably impressed the crowd around the table.

It was one such trick, the pool cue, behind his back and one arm over his shoulders, that brought out the disbelievers. Just like he'd been hoping it would. There were whistles and cat-calls as he began to line up the shot. And finally, while he played out the waiting game, someone called out that he would never make the shot. He pulled back and searched out the naysayer. His smirk almost did all the work for him and soon a small wager was set. And just as he'd planned, his pool cue flew gently towards the intended target, the cue ball. It neatly jumped the striped ball in its way to spin nicely against his ball, poised at the edge of the corner pocket. That same spin moved the cue ball around, keeping it from sinking as well, which would have lost him his turn.

There was applause and Dean happily collected the small sum. And that was the beginning of his betting streak. He loved small town barflies that had nothing better to do on a Wednesday night, than bet on a stranger's pool playing abilities. He was glad to see that they recognized that he was hustling them a little. He took some good-natured ribbing about it. But they were just drunk enough, most of them, to piss their money away for the fun of it. But when he hit upwards of two hundred dollars, he figured he better get while the going was good. There was a fine line between friendly betting and a mob attack. Just to show he was a good guy, he offered to pay for a round of drinks to his new found friends. They happily accepted and moved towards the bar to give Jack their drink orders.

Dean followed after them, just in time to see Max collecting some money from the bartender. He thought at first that she was getting change, but the sum was too much for what she should have had in her pockets.

"Can you do other stuff like that?" the bartender asked, ignoring the customers for a moment.

"Stuff like what?" he asked. Sam whirled around, his eyes panicked and Dean knew immediately that they were up to something. Judging by the kid's reaction, Dean knew that Sam probably figured it was lecture worthy. But the bartender saved either child from answering.

"Your little sister can tell phone numbers by the beep tones," he told Dean with a smile.

Dean rolled his eyes. "So?"

"On speed dial," he amended.

"Yeah, right!" Dean scoffed. He ignored the bartender for a moment, counting out his money.

"No Dean," Sam interjected. "She really can."

Dean glanced at Sam and then around at the rest of the group gathered around them. Most were wearing shit-eating grins and he knew, he just knew that there was something rotten in Denmark. He just had to figure out what. He nudged Max in the shoulder. "Is that true? I mean, you may be a genius, but nobody can do that."

"There's one way to find out," Max replied evasively.

"And what's that?" Dean was amused. Max held her hand up, rubbing her thumb against her fingertips, the universal sign for money. Dean held her gaze for a moment, and then slowly pulled a ten from his little wad of cash. He laid it on the bar and pushed it forward. The moment his finger left the cash, there were more whoops and hollers. One grizzled old man, seated on Max's left was the loudest.

"I reckon' she must be a genius," he told no on in general. "Cause he shore don't got no brains. They all went to her." There was some laughing agreement and Jack brought the phone a little closer. This time he knew which number he'd choose. He waited until Max was ready, then hit Speed Dial one. While the phone rang, Max recited the number, even though it was only seven digits.

The crowd waited, some of the regular patrons, friends of the bartender knew exactly whom he was dialing. Once the phone picked up, it was obvious to everyone else what was going on.

"Hey Jack," a woman greeted cheerfully. "Everything okay?"

"Just fine sweetie," Jack's smiling face softened. He glanced up at Dean and mouthed the words 'my wife' and Dean nodded mechanically. "Honey, we have a bet going on and I need you to give us our telephone number."

"Our telephone number?" the woman sounded puzzled but amused. "Why can't you say it?"

"Because I don't want to be seen as biased," Jack answered easily.

"Okay," she drawled. "It's 555-6849." There was a pause as the crowd gathered around laughed loudly. Dean's jaw dropped and he gaped at his little sister. She snatched his money from the bar and quickly shoved it into her pocket. "Jack? Jack?"

"I'm here darlin'," he answered through his own laughter.

"You didn't lose did you?"

"Only five dollars," he confessed. "But I've got to go. I've got drinks to get. I'll tell you about it when I get home." He turned his back to the crowd and quickly finished the call.

"How did you do that?" Dean demanded finally.

Max simply smiled a Cheshire cat grin and rolled the money up that she'd collected. With relish, she slipped it into her jean pocket.

"I still wanna know what else she can do," the old man interjected. "You said she was a genius. What else?"

"She's really good at gymnastics," Sam spoke up finally, pride over his little sister shining through. "And she's good at math."

"You are too Sam," Max added, not wanting Sam to get on another jealousy streak, even though he was the one currently enumerating her selling points.

"Oh?" the guy asked. "Are you like, what do ya call them… idiot savants?" He glanced at Dean's suddenly dark glare. "Oh settle down youngin'. I didn't mean it like that."

Max chuckled. "Not an idiot, no," she explained. "Savants work more with patterns and facts. Some of them can multiply large numbers in their heads, I think. I can do that."

"Oh really?" Jack asked, as he finished passing out the last beer. He turned to Dean. "$22.50." Dean pulled out a couple twenties and handed them over. Jack busied himself counting out the change, but kept talking. "Can you do square roots and that type of stuff?"

"Sure can," Max shrugged. Jack turned back and counted out the change for Dean and happily accepted the dollar tip back.

"Okay, let's see," Jack crossed both arms and legs as he leaned back against his counter as he thought out a problem for the girl. "What's the square root of 36000?"

Slowly Max let the grin widen on her face. "What's it worth to you?" she asked smartly.

Jack flashed a grin and thought it over for a moment. "I'll buy you another round of drinks, you and your brothers."

"189.73665961010275991993361266596…" Max reeled off. Jack started in surprise and then scrambled for the little calculator that he kept beside his till for figuring large sums.

"Hang on, hang on," he groused. Max dutifully waited until he'd found the square root. She repeated the digits again.

"Would you like me to go on?" she asked after a pause. Jack, shocked looked up and shook his head. He held up the calculator.

"Mine doesn't even go that far up the decimal point," he announced incredulously. "Damn!" He dropped the calculator onto the bar, where it was swiftly grabbed for by several hands. There were more whistles and exclamations. Jack turned back with three more pops and passed them over to the kids.

"I'm Bogey, by the way," the gnarled old man sitting to Max's left introduced himself suddenly. He held out his hand for Max to shake, and then turned to Dean and Sam. Dean introduced himself and his siblings, giving first names only as was his family's nature to do. "So what else can you do, little gal?"

"She's an amazing hide and seek player," Dean chuckled, throwing Max an amused glance. Max blushed and ducked her head, knowing that she'd never live down ending up on the roof, in what was, to her brothers, a simple child's game.

"And you should have seen her one time," Sam interjected. "She was doing a handstand up on the monkey bars for like, ever." Bogey turned a steady eye to the girl and she shrugged.

"I have really good balance," she remarked flippantly. But suddenly, all this attention that was now coming her way was starting to unnerve her. She didn't know what she was thinking, allowing herself to show off as she had been doing. All it took was one chance remark about that strange girl, about eleven years old who was a mathematical genius, amazing with gymnastics, could do thing no other human could and Manticore would be all over her ass. She bit her lip, wondering how she could gracefully get out of this situation she got herself into.

"I believe that," Bogey remarked humorously. "I seen kids that do some damn scary stuff. Mostly 'cause they don't know better than to be afraid," he added in Dean's direction. Dean simply nodded. "So little gal, you ever play cards?"

"Dean taught me how to play poker," she answered honestly. She didn't see the harm in admitting that. Bogey let out another bark of laughter.

"She any good?" he asked the eldest boy. Dean glanced away, running one hand through his hair.

"Beat the hell out of me," he admitted softly, with wry amusement.

"I'm sure she did," Bogey nodded. He turned back to Max. "You ever play cribbage?" Max shook her head no. "I'll teach ya, if ya want to sit a spell?" Max glanced at Dean but he had no problem with it other than the obvious.

"We might have to get going soon," he explained, gesturing at their father. John was still speaking with his friend, but his eyes were on the kids at the bar. Dean knew there was no way all the commotion wouldn't have attracted his father's attention. He felt it was a mark of John's belief in him to protect Sam and Max since he hadn't come storming over to demand what was going on.

"Surely you're gonna eat before you go?" Bogey demanded. He could see the kid's hesitation. "Tell you what, my treat!"

The hesitancy turned into full-blown refusal right there. "We couldn't let you do that," Max protested. But Bogey was shaking his grizzled old head.

"Little girl, I got nothing to do and nobody to spend my money on," he explained in a matter of fact way. "I end up most nights down at this bar drinkin' the night away, tellin' the same ol' stories to the same pack of bums. Tonight I want to do something different. Nothin' sinister. Just buy your family dinner and play some cards. Whaddya say?"

The three children glanced at one another. It wasn't so much what Bogey had said, but the emotion behind those words. At his explanation, they could very clearly see that he was exactly as he said he was. An old, retired bar fly. It wasn't like he was trying to get Max off on her lonesome to try unspeakable things with her. Dean and Sam were right there. Finally Dean took the decision from his sister's hand.

"Max, go ask Dad," he instructed. She nodded and slipped from her stool. Dean intended to get this dealt with quickly.

Max swept up to the tabled booth where her father was sitting. Politely, she waited for the men to finish speaking and as soon as they did, John swiveled his head to look at her, silently asking what she needed.

"Dad?" she began hesitantly. She didn't know how upset John would be that a stranger wanted to buy them a meal. Normally John didn't let the kids talk much to strangers. "That guy over at the bar, Bogey, he wants to buy us supper. And he wants to teach me how to play cribbage." She waited for John to tilt his head back so he could take in the gnarled retiree who politely waved and nodded his head once in their direction.

"Old Bogey?" John's friend asked in disbelief.

"You know him?" John asked softly. The guy nodded his head.

"Everybody does," the man shrugged. "Poor guy lost his wife and his son in a car wreck a few years back. He got kind of quiet then. Ends up in the bar most hours of the day now." The guy contemplated Max, and then turned back to John. "It's kind of nice to see him enjoying himself. As I recall, he and my dad and some other guys used to play cards once a week." He turned and appraised John's concern with one discerning glance. "He won't hurt the kids John and they'd be doing him more of a favor by eating with him than the other way around."

John must have agreed with that assessment, because he gave Max permission.

"Did you want anything sir?" she asked carefully. John shook his head and sent her back to the bar, excused himself and followed after his daughter. He waited until Max was seated again before stepping into the cluster of his children.

"Can I get two more beers please," he motioned to Jack, who nodded. And then John turned to the old man. He held out his hand. "John Winchester. I see you've met my kids."

"Shore have," Bogey held out his own hand and introduced himself. "Bogey Jenkins is what people call me." He pulled his hand back and gestured at the bar. "So are we looking at some menus or what?" John smiled enigmatically.

"If you're sure you don't mind." Bogey didn't even dignify that with a response, other than to pull the slim sheaf of paper from its position between the napkin holder and the salt and pepper shakers. He passed them on down to the kids and glanced up at John.

"What'll you have?" he demanded, but John shook his head.

"I'm fine," he offered, and then collected his beer from Jack. He slid the money over and waited for change. He was waiting for Bogey to argue with him, but the old man stayed silent.

John collected both his change and his drinks, smiled at the kids and headed back to his seat. The kids seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief and turned their attention to the menu. All three of them knew enough about manners that it would be insulting to Bogey to order the cheapest thing available. But neither did they want to order the most expensive, either. While they were thinking things over, Bogey leaned over to them.

"Order your Daddy something too," he instructed. "You'll know best what he likes." He winked up at Dean. "Can't complain much if it's a done deal, right?"

Dean grinned. This guy obviously didn't know his father. But what the heck. "No sir, he sure can't."

After a few minutes decision, they gave their orders to Jack, including a burger platter for John. Bogey ordered for himself and instructed Jack to get something for Little Joey Jr., the man that John was conversing with. Jack grinned and wrote the order down before sending it back to Luann, his short order cook.

"And wrassle up that cribbage board and some cards," Bogey ordered. Jack just shook his head, pleased to see the old man doing something fun for once.

The kids and Bogey enjoyed themselves. Dean could vaguely remember the game, having seen his father and a few old Marine buddies play it before a few times, when he was small. It wasn't hard to catch on to and after Bogey and Max played a few practice rounds, the game was on. After twenty minutes play, Jack brought their food out, and then swept over to John and Joe's table with their order. Bogey turned as it was delivered and gave them a wide smile. John gave an exaggerated, resigned smile and saluted the older man with his beer. The two dug into their food with relish, just as the kids had done. In all it was a pleasant evening.

"Good night!" Max called as the Winchester clan swept out the doors, near ten o'clock. The patrons who were still there yelled back and waved goodbye. It really made their evening such an entertaining one, to have new people to talk to, interesting deeds to brag on and relief that one of their own company was brought out of his gruff heartbroken world for at least an evening. Whether the Winchester's knew it or not, the people in Shorty's Bar really appreciated these strangers who did so little, but garnered so much from one pit stop layover in a little town.

"So what's the scoop Dad?" Dean asked once everybody was in the Impala.

"Reed's Mine," he began immediately. "We're gonna have to be careful since it's a state historical site."

Dean nodded. "Park rangers and stuff?"

"I suppose," John replied. "There've been three suspicious deaths there in the last month. From what Joe said, they'd just unearthed an old mine shaft that no one knew about before." He pulled the car out onto the street, heading towards the motel that Joe indicated should still have vacancies. "According to the police report, some boys were on a tour with their parents. Everyone admits that the boys were horsing around and fighting. Older boy got pushed too hard and was knocked back through some rotted up boarding and fell to his death in this unknown shaft."

"So where's the catch?" Max asked, listening just as avidly as Sam was.

"The younger boy swears up and down that he didn't push his brother," John declared. "And the mother doesn't remember seeing him push her other son at that exact moment. Of course the kid is young enough; the police don't think he was able to push his brother hard enough to cause the accident. So they ruled it an accidental fall." The three children nodded.

"What else?" Dean asked. His father had mentioned three deaths.

"Second death happened a few days after the first," John continued. "There was a surveying team out, to look over this new mine shaft. They were checking out the stress levels of the shaft supports and cataloging the dimensions, to see if they could send a team down there. Again, a man fell to his death. But everyone swore up and down that he wasn't pushed by any of them. No one was near him when it happened."

"What was he doing when he fell?" Dean asked. They needed as many details as they could get to solve these types of things.

"No one is sure," John murmured. "The guy closest to him thought he heard him mutter something about gold in the new mine area."

"What about the third death?" Max wanted to know. She was already formulating theories about this, but wanted more information before she blurted it out.

"Pretty much the same thing," John informed her. "Only this time it was the actual surveyors that went down into the shaft. "One of them came up saying that there was a vein of gold in the mine that could be tapped. According to eyewitnesses, he was going on and on about what he could buy if he was the one to tap the gold, no matter that the mine is on state land. The next thing they knew, the guy was yanked backwards and straight down the hole."

"So obviously we've got the mine in common and two mentions of gold," Dean surmised.

"Uh uh," Max muttered. Both John and Dean turned to see her face, although John of course used the rearview mirror.

"Whatcha thinking Maxie?" Dean smiled.

"I don't think it was gold, because the kids couldn't have known about it," she thought out loud. "I'm thinking it was more about greed."

"How'd you arrive at that?" John asked softly. He didn't mind Max having a different opinion about these cases. For some reason, her reasoning usually turned out to be right on the money.

"You know how kids are," she began with a deprecating grin. "And they were on a tour of a historical site. Is there like a gift shop or something there?"

Dean took the information on the area that his father had in a file folder and looked. "Yup," he confirmed. "Of course there is. Always gotta be someone bilking people out of their hard earned cash." He tossed a grin at his father, knowing what a cheeky little bugger he could be, since he'd been the one doing the bilking just a few hours ago.

"So it's my guess that the boys parents probably bought them something," Max continued to theorize, "and the boys were arguing over what they got, or the older boy wanted something the younger boy had."

"Or maybe the younger brother was able to buy something himself and his older brother couldn't and he was trying to get his younger brother to share," Sam offered.

"Both of those would make sense," John interjected. "We'll maybe have to interview the kid and see if we can find out what they were arguing about. It'll be better if you kids do that." He glanced up at a street sign, and then turned the corner. "Let's leave it for now, since we'll be at the motel soon." There was silence for a few minutes. "Did you kids enjoy yourselves tonight?" he asked curiously. At once there was a babble of voices, all telling John about what they did. He laughed heartily, unable to separate one voice out of the three and so let the words wash over them. Pretty soon they'd quiet down and he could question them individually. He really was interested in learning how much Dean had won at pool and what exactly Max had done to win money.

"Hey!" Sammy burst out suddenly, turning to Max. "I was going to ask you. Why didn't you win that last game of crib?"

"What do you mean?" Max murmured evasively. "I just lost."

"But you shouldn't have," Sam protested. He stared hard at his sister, who had ducked her head. "I looked at the cards you threw away Max," he told her. "If you'd have kept them, you would have won."

"I know," she finally admitted.

"So why'd you throw them?" Sam demanded. Max shrugged helplessly. Sammy had that look on his face. Like a dog with a bone, he wanted answers. And it was amazing how much he looked like John right then.

"Oh fine!" she gave in disgustedly. "I lost because people don't like other people who are perfect!"

"Huh?" Sam was mystified. John chuckled. He had understood immediately.

"I think what she's trying to say Sam is that people are always envious over others who seem to have everything. You know the type. They're rich and good-looking and have everything that everybody else wants. People get jealous of that and end up hating that person."

"And usually it's that rich good-looking person that's the most miserable of all," Dean added wryly. Sam and Max nodded along with their older brother.

"So you didn't want Bogey to hate you?" Sam asked of his sister. She shrugged again.

"Well, I didn't think he'd hate me if I won a hand of cribbage," she sighed. "I just thought, you know, he was having so much fun playing…"

"You did a good thing sweetie," John complimented. "Joe was telling me a little bit about him. Seems he's turning into a bit of a recluse. He needed to do something fun and you let him do that by playing cards with him. He's probably sitting there recounting every single hand he had with all of his buddies."

"Probably," Max smiled. She turned back to Sam. "See, I'm not perfect."

"Oh I know that!" he crowed. "You snore!"

"I do not!" Max screeched indignantly. "It's Dean that snores!"

"Don't drag me into this," their older brother warned playfully. "Or I'll show you what a perfect ass-whooping I can give."

"Yeah right!" Max sneered. "If anyone is perfect at that, it's me!"

"'Kay fine!" Dean huffed, recalling his little sister's prowess in that arena. "I'll give you that. But I am the perfect male specimen." He turned to present them with his profile. With a silly accent he continued on, defusing the fight with humor. "Note ze classic lines of mah perfect nose, and ze- OW!"

Sam and Max giggled as Sam had grabbed Dean's proffered nose, jerking hard on it. Sam turned to his sister. "Doesn't look so perfect now, does it?" She could only shake her head.

"Why you little shit!" Dean thundered as he turned in his seat to make a grab for his brother. The pair in the back was laughing so hard as Dean's hand groped for a part of Sam to grab and yank in retaliation. Sam was weakly fending of those hands with ineffectual slaps and Max joined in when Dean's hand accidentally grazed her shoulder. The fight swiftly decimated into a tickle fight, but when John had to duck his head to avoid a flying elbow, he put an end to it.

Two minutes worth of yelling didn't have much effect, other than to get them to quit. But all three children were sitting with gleaming eyes, ready to begin again as soon as they got to the motel.

"You three are perfect all right," John muttered under his breath. "Perfect jackasses." The solitary comment, meant to be overheard, was and brought with it fresh new peals of laughter.


	17. Coming Of Age

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: R for language and certain situations!

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident. grins evilly)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

A/N- Please see the note at the end of the fiction.

When It Changes

Chapter Seventeen

Coming Of Age

_Max stared down at the bucket filled nearly to the brim with warm water. She knew she was supposed to be doing something with it. Leaning over slowly, she pulled the swinging handle upwards and hefted the bucket up to her thigh. With it jostling by her side, sloshing warm water all over her jeans, she made her way to the door. Easily, she swung the door open and using her hip, popped open the screen door. She pushed the screen door open with her free forearm and made her way out to the porch. She stepped away from the doorway and the metal framed screen door popped loudly against the wooden frame. Max continued on, just as slowly as before, stepping from the cool shade of the porch out into the glaring afternoon sun. She had to take the pail… somewhere._

_Her focus narrowed as she looked out at the back yard of their Geraldine home. Something wasn't right. Then she zeroed in on it. The Impala. There had never been a place to park it in the back. They'd always parked it at the curb out front. Yet here it was, the black paint preening in the sunlight. Suddenly Max's mission made sense when she caught the rainbow miasma coming from the trunk. Water in the pail. Wet car. They were washing the car. Just then, a figure rose up from the other side of the car and Max felt more than heard herself release a small 'oh' in surprise. _

_Dean rose up, surely having just washed some lower area of the car. Max continued on towards him, a heavy sensation in her chest. The sunlight playing down over her skin felt warmer than usual. As she walked, she watched Dean, a soapy sponge in his hand lean over the trunk of the Impala, carefully washing away any bits of mud and debris he may have missed. Without even realizing it, he ran one wet hand through his hair, pushing back the bangs that were slightly too long. The movement accomplished an end to his annoyance, only for a moment, when the now wet clumps fell back into his eyes. Dean shook his head good-naturedly, too intent on his work that was more pleasure than anything._

_Max slowed to a stop as Dean leaned over once again, disappearing from view. When he came upright once more, the sponge in his hand moved over, not the car, but his head as he used the water to try and tame his wayward locks. Max's breath hitched in her throat as little droplets of water dripped onto his broad shoulders. Dean seemed to have heard her as he glanced up. His face, already sporting a relaxed smile, broadened into a grin. Max forced herself on stiff legs to move forward with the bucket. Once she'd neared him, he dropped the sponge back into the bucket at his feet. Max hefted her own bucket once more, holding it out to him. He accepted it and gently nudged her out of the way. Max stepped back and watched as Dean rinsed the soap residue from the back of the car, leaving a little water in the bucket. He turned to her with a glint in his eyes before upending the rest of the water over himself. _

_Max's cheeks burned as Dean shook the water from his head. The water was enough to completely douse the old white t-shirt he was wearing, so worn and faded that the water made it see though. It outlined each curving ripple of musculature in his chest and as he turned to set the bucket down, Max could see the slim gracefulness of his side twisting and extending. Dean glanced at her, then down at his wet form. _

_He lowered his lashes as his fingers sought out the hem of his shirt and with one quick motion, had pulled the shirt from his frame. Max swallowed as more of his skin was exposed. His broad shoulders bunched as he balled up the fabric, before tossing it into the bucket. Unconsciously licking her lips, Max stared at the sun-kissed skin gleaming like honey under the azure sky. Dean returned her gaze, his thumbs hooking his front belt loops, a half-smirk curving his lips as if he dared her to say something. But Max was speechless. Given over entirely to some new, nameless emotion coiling within her. _

_Hot. She was so damn hot._

_Perhaps Dean recognized it, that feeling in her. Whatever moved him, pushed him towards her. He stepped slowly, like a predator with its prey, watching her with heavy hooded eyes. Max felt herself shudder, though she was nowhere near cold. And when his hands reached for her, she was more than willing to go where he led. _

_With ease, Dean slowly lifted her upwards and Max's legs automatically opened to accommodate his body. She wrapped her legs around his lean hips, not caring that the moisture that had soaked the waistband of his jeans was now seeping into hers. The relief of the rapidly cooled water was welcome, though it did nothing to quench the raging fire within her. _

_So close to him now, Max could see a droplet of water, wavering in descent, hanging from his eyelashes. A slow blink and it connected with his chiseled cheekbone and trickled its way down a planed path. Max followed that trickle, turning her head so slightly to focus on his lips. Soft, smooth, curving again as he spoke. She had to force herself to look up into his eyes. _

'_Max?'_

_Her lips parted. She couldn't respond. She didn't know how to respond. She sucked her lower lip into her mouth, letting it scrape slowly against her teeth. She felt his groan reverberate though his body. It made her tingle. His arms shifted, one moving to support her back while the other crossed behind her, his fingers gripping at her shoulder. Max's head fell back allowing her to stare up at him. Dean tilted his head to his right, his chin dropping fractionally. _

_She clutched at his arms when she felt herself sliding downward, but he didn't let her go far. Max concentrated on the fresh waves of heat pounding through her legs, her hips, her…_

_Eyes widened as new contours to his body made themselves known. Max's gaze flew to his face once more and Dean grinned wickedly. They both knew what he was feeling, what he was making her feel. His head began to move towards her and Max eagerly waited for that perfect moment when his lips touched hers._

"Max!" Sam barked again, shaking his thirteen year old sister by the shoulder. He frowned down at her sleeping form, wondering if she was sick. She never slept until ten o'clock in the morning. And he could have sworn that she was awake before, when they left to eat breakfast. And was she looking flushed?

Her eyes snapped open so swiftly, that Sam was startled and fell back in surprise.

"Sam?" she croaked, her eyes darting around the room. If anything, the blush in her cheeks deepened. Sam tried to strive for calmness, his sixteen year old self desperate to look adult. But before he could say anything, she was scrambling out from under the bed sheets. She hurried into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. Sam skirted the end of the bed and hesitantly followed after her. Something was really wrong.

"Max?" he called, more than a little concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah!" she called back after a moment's pause. "Just… bad dream!"

Although he wasn't looking in a mirror, Sam knew that his face was most likely clearly registering the surprise he felt. He raised one hand, as if to knock on the door, but it fell to his side when he heard the shower start up. Realizing that Max, usually on an even keel, was back on her way to being normal, Sam shrugged and looked around the motel room for anything he, his father or Dean might have missed. All that was left were Max's bags. Thoughtfully, he shifted them so they were waiting just outside the bathroom door. He noticed that Max hadn't taken anything with her into the bathroom to change into.

Back to his almost carefree self, Sam chuckled and left the room. Dean and John were loading up the Impala and checking over the engine. Dean was muttering something about it being almost time to change the oil again. John glanced up when he heard the door shut.

"Where's Max?" he demanded, eager to get on the road again. They had a lead on another salt and burn.

"Uh, she just woke up," Sam replied, leaning against the cool stucco wall of the building. Both John and Dean stared at him. They knew as well as he did that Max never slept this late. "She's in the shower."

"Is she okay?" Dean asked, turning his face back to the engine. The easy way he spoke masked an obvious concern. Sam shrugged, even though his brother didn't see it. Dean pulled back and stared at his brother. "Sammy?"

"It's Sam," he muttered. "I don't know," he answered, shrugging again. He crossed his arms and looked off in the distance. Why on earth should he know how Max was feeling. She was a big girl. She could tell them herself if she wasn't feeling well.

"She was probably just overtired," John decided. "She sleeps less than anyone I've ever known," he spoke to no one in particular. "It was bound to catch up with her." He decided then that it might be a good idea to encourage the girl to get to bed earlier. She was still a growing child. For that matter, so was Sam. Yet Sam, like Dean before him, was obliging in his habit of sleeping anywhere at anytime, unless something dangerous was going on.

"She said she had a bad dream," Sam finally volunteered. "She kind of freaked out."

John glanced once at his younger son, and then for the most part dismissed the worry. "It's not surprising," he announced. "Hell, I have bad dreams all the time." The boys nodded their agreement, silently counting themselves among the nightmare set. With what they'd seen and done already in their short lives, it was no surprise at all.

It took only twenty minutes of impatient toe tapping, sighing, frequent glances in the window and finally Max emerged. She sailed out of the hotel room, her hair still wet and plastered to her skin. She had both her bags and she disregarded John's outstretched hands to put the bags in the trunk herself. That accomplished, she moved around to the passenger's side and climbed into the backseat of the car. The three males threw each other amused if slightly baffled glances at one another and then followed suit. John had decided to drive this morning, so he slammed the trunk of the Impala down and made his way to the driver's side. Once in the vehicle, he checked once more to make sure that Dean had the road map and they set out on the road yet again.

They'd gone perhaps twenty miles, silence filling the car, when Dean turned in his front seat to regard his siblings. "So Sam says you had a bad dream Max," he began conversationally. "Want to talk about it?"

"No." The answer was short, offered in a monotone. Dean grinned.

"'Cause you know, talking about it can help," he smiled. "It's not like it's the first time you've had one, right?" There was no answer. "Right Max?"

"No," she answered again, keeping her eyes averted out the window.

"Well it can't have been that bad," Dean pressed on relentlessly. "It's not like you woke up screaming your head off."

"Yeah," Sam chuckled. "Like the time you had that dream about-!"

"Shut up Sammy," Dean growled. "We're not talking about me here."

John chuckled as well. He vaguely remembered the incident, when he'd returned from a solo trip and Sam had been poking Dean in the stomach. He'd thought Dean was sick but it turned out that the boy was just exhausted from taking care of a belligerent little brother all day. Suddenly Dean had woken up yelling about pink alien voodoo pretzels. He still had no idea where that had come from. Probably too many video games and late night snacks. Dean glared at his father and John smirked at him, and then turned his eyes back to the road. He wasn't going to tattle on his son, yet.

With relief, Dean turned back to Max. "So come on, share. What was so horrible?"

"Nothing!" Max snapped at her eldest brother. Dean drew back in surprise. But then, in true elder sibling tormentor style, he was right back at it.

"Ooh, little Maxie's got herself a temper," he taunted as Sam looked on, smirking. "Temper, temper Maxie," he sing-songed as he poked at her leg. With startling swiftness, her foot shot upwards as she twisted her body to the side. If Dean hadn't jerked back as quickly as he did, she would have caught him.

"Leave me alone!" she snarled and this time Dean couldn't quite recover from his shock. He gaped at her, before turning to his father. It was as if the world had suddenly shifted. He had no rational explanation for his sister to be in a mood like this and he wanted someone to explain it. Of course, in their small world, that meant John. But father was just as stumped as his sons.

"That's enough Dean," John warned. "Just leave her be." Dean, still too shocked to even think of disobeying, turned himself back around to stare out the window ahead of him. "Max?" John asked, his question loaded with emotion. He swiveled his head once and was startled to see an expression of extreme vulnerability and fear on her face before her head ducked down and her hair flowed forward. Sure as hell, something extreme was going on and he wanted to get to the bottom of it. But for now it could wait. He wasn't going to press the girl and perhaps upset her further. "How about some music?" he suggested to the car in general. Dean mechanically leaned forward to pick up a box of cassette tapes, his fingers flipping through them numbly.

Music, softly played, reigned in the car for the next hour. John was feeling quite soporific when Max's tiny voice roused him. "Dad?"

He blinked in surprise, cleared his throat and reflexively glanced up in the rearview mirror. He had forgotten though that she wasn't sitting directly behind him like she usually did. "Yeah sweetie?"

"Can we make a pit stop?" she asked softly. John noticed that there was a sign coming up.

"No problem," he answered amiably. As they drew nearer to the sign and he could read it, he offered a more definitive answer. "In ten miles." Max nodded absently and turned back to staring at the window.

As soon as they pulled in to the highway gas station, Max had her door open and jumped out of the car. John was about to admonish her for her lack of safety mindedness, but she was moving quick. She ran into the gas station, leaving three puzzled males behind.

Max bypassed the front counter, her eyes searching. Finally seeing what she wanted, she dashed back towards the restrooms, hoping desperately that they were empty. Seeing how their car was the only one in the station, aside from the employee's, she was in luck. She hurried into the small room and flipped on the light. Typically, the internal fan came on as well. She was grateful for that as the tears she'd been trying to hold back came freely. The noise of the fan would block out any small sounds she might have made. She moved over to the sink, resolutely avoiding looking in the mirror, just as she'd done earlier in the motel room. She ran the water, wincing at its ice cold temperature at first. But it was just what she needed. She splashed it over her face and the inside of her wrists, trying desperately to cool down. She hadn't been this flushed in, well… ever.

Choking back a sob, Max wondered again what the hell was wrong with her. She'd had a dream about Dean for God's sake! A… a bad dream. A naughty dream. Something horribly, horribly wrong. He was her brother for crying out loud. And as little as she still knew about the mystical sisterhood, she knew that girls didn't have dreams like that about their brothers. The whole damned mess had her so flummoxed and her confusion had turned to anger and she had very stupidly given into that anger in the car when Dean had been picking on her, just like her big brother always did. And now he was mad at her and that alone right there was devastating.

Sammy mad at her she could handle. John upset with her was a little tougher, but he was dad and he was supposed to get upset. Dean and Sam accepted it when it happened and she had learned to as well. But Dean upset with her was beyond imagining. The only time Dean ever got supremely pissed off was when they were hunting and that was born out of frustration. When he was mad, which Max very rarely ever saw, it was because something hurt him so deeply that it was like a mortal wound. Most everything he just shrugged off. But now Max had taken her anger out on him and tried to kick him and she had hurt him.

The tears flowed faster, the cold water doing nothing to soothe the burn within. What was happening to her? The thought pounded around her mind. This wasn't normal, she knew that. And as such, there was no one she could ask about it. She couldn't ask John for two reasons. First, the normal thing, second of all, how on earth do you tell your dad that you're dreaming about your brother in naughty ways? Oh she wasn't stupid. During their year in Geraldine, they'd had health classes, which had lightly touched on reproduction in humans. So she knew the technicalities of that situation. And if she didn't get it then, she certainly got it when she'd seen a couple of dogs going at it in an alleyway.

She glanced mechanically at her watch, noting that she'd been in the bathroom for about five minutes. They'd start to worry if she took any longer. At least John would worry. Sammy probably didn't care and Dean probably would be just fine with them leaving her behind after the way she'd treated him. She sighed. Actually, she knew that wasn't true. Her big brother wouldn't leave her behind any more than he'd leave Sam or Dad. At least she hoped he would be like that with her.

Dreading returning to the car, Max decided that the only course would be to apologize. After all, it wasn't Dean's fault that her subconscious decided to play twilight zone in her dreams. Carefully wiping the tear stains from her face and patting it dry with a scratchy paper towel; Max took a few deep breaths and unlocked the door to the rest room. Her steps returning to the car were much slower than when she'd left it.

No one was looking at her as she approached and she opened the back door. Sam glanced up and John turned to make sure she was okay. Max slid into the seat and pulled the door shut behind her. Before putting on her seat belt, she began to lean forward, her apology hovering on her lips.

Dean didn't even look up from the cassettes he was still examining, when he heard the door shut. No one said anything for a moment. "Took you long enough," he snarled. He glanced at his father. "Can we go now?"

The apology flew from Max's mind. Dean was mad, still. And whatever remorse she was feeling transmuted itself back into anger. She didn't realize how much, until now, that anger was her major defense against hurt, against pain. "Yeah, well, you know that might be because some of us actually like to wash our hands after being in a place like that," she snapped. She added a kick to the back of his seat with that little insult. That was enough to turn him in his seat.

"Shut the hell up Max," Dean growled, glaring at her from the front seat. "Whatever the hell is bugging you; just get the hell over it!"

"You're bugging me!" she yelled back.

"That's enough you two!" John's voice overrode both of theirs. His eyes were snapping with irritation. "Turn around Dean!" He obeyed his father mulishly. "I want silence for the next hour! Do you understand?" All three kids nodded, every one of them struck mute.

At the very outside edge of the demanded hour, Max managed to pipe up. "Sir?"

John, who'd finally managed to let his ire drain out of him, glanced over his shoulder. Looking at Max's tiny, face, any residual anger fled. "Yeah baby?"

"I…uh," she began, stammering.

"What is it?" he asked patiently, his eyes returning to watch the road.

"I need to stop again," she blurted out. Sam just glanced at her as she announced this, but Dean started rolling his head back and forth, giving every indication of annoyance.

"Already?" John asked, slightly amused.

"Uh, yeah," Max searched her mind for an excuse. Her mouth felt dry and she seized on that sensation. "I'm thirsty and I didn't eat anything this morning."

John nodded his assent. That was reasonable. And he was getting a little parched himself. "Okay. Next stop then."

Max nodded in relief. Again it was the same, as soon as John pulled in and halted the car, Max bolted from her seat. Sam gave a low chuckle.

"What?" John demanded.

"For someone who didn't eat anything today, she sure has to go," he pointed out. John rolled his eyes. He opened his own car door and glanced pointedly at the boys.

"You guys want anything?" he asked. Both boys nodded. "The usual?" More nods. John sighed as he climbed out of the vehicle and slammed the car door shut. That meant junk food. Not that he was opposed to it, but he didn't need sugar hyped, head butting moods right now. He entered the gas station and looked for Max. He didn't spy her immediately, but noticed that the woman's rest room door was shut.

He moved over to the coolers and began picking out drinks for the boys. He wondered if there was anything decent he could get for them that wasn't too sweet. He roamed up and down the aisles, waiting for Max and just as the rest room door opened, decided on crackers instead of candy. Grabbing a few types, he also grabbed an outrageously priced box of granola bars. He met Max at the counter and she seemed surprised to see him there. He held up the drink he'd gotten for her and she gave him a half smile.

John dumped his armload on the counter and waited for the clerk to ring it up. "Hang on a sec Maxie," he instructed. "You can help me carry this back out to the car."

"Yes sir," she responded automatically. They waited and John pulled out one of his multitude of cards. The pimply faced teen barely glanced at it as she swiped it through the machine. She passed John a slip to sign and a pen, then handed the card back to him, along with his two bags of groceries.

"Boy, polite much?" Max grinned as they exited the store. John smiled back, glad to see that she was in a better mood. He'd have to remember that. Hungry Max equaled a cranky Max. He followed her to the car and skirted around to the driver's side. Max had already opened up the bag she was carrying and was doling out crackers to Sam. She took a few granola bars for herself then negligently tossed the bag up over the seat and onto Dean's lap. John saw this and gave Dean a warning glance when his son would have opened his mouth to protest.

"Who wants the cherry cola?" he asked, knowing that Dean would go for that. Dean held out his hand expectantly, even as his other was fumbling to open the sealed cardboard box. "And a root beer for Sammy boy."

"It's Sam," the teen protested as he leaned forward to accept the drink. Truthfully, John had heard those precise words coming from his son's mouth so much lately that he kind of tuned it out now.

"And an iced tea for Max," he continued as he handed it back to her.

"Thank you," she mumbled politely through her mouth full of granola goodness. John smiled as he pulled out his own cola. He opened it up and took a swig before closing the cap up tightly and stashing it in the divot between the front seats.

"All right, let's go," he sighed. They headed off again and this time, no one protested his turning on the radio to some classic seventies rock. He found himself humming along with the tunes while Dean roamed through their road map book, silently marking X's on places that he'd like to someday visit. Sam was occupied with a book in the back seat and no one noticed that Max hadn't even opened her bottle of iced tea.

The poor girl wasn't really thirsty any more. No, now she was overheated. And tired. She couldn't understand because she'd slept most of the night, had a nap that morning before they left and now she felt ready to drift off again. Without attracting notice, she'd curled up as much as her seat would allow, pressing the ice cold beverage to her flaming cheeks. It felt so good and much better than simply drinking it would make her feel.

But eventually, the bottle began warming up. Her cheeks and the warmth of the car making it impossible for it to stay cold all that long. Finally Max used it for its intended purpose and drank the tea down. But it did little to stave off that damned heat. Finally, Max had enough and shifted so that she could press her cheek against the window of the car. It was uncomfortable to her, to stretch like that and she shifted again. Just like the bottle though, the window didn't stay cold for long. She moved a few more times, searching to cool down. At last she decided to open a window and let some cold air in.

"Max, close the window," John instructed after a few minutes. He heard the girl sigh. "If you're too hot I can turn the heat down." She didn't respond, but did as he told her and rolled the window back up. She sighed again and John rolled his eyes. Maybe his earlier theory about hunger wasn't it. Maybe she needed to run off some excess energy. He glanced at Dean, still stubbornly ignoring the rest of his family. Maybe a stop in a park wouldn't be so bad. He could make them run this pissy attitude right out of themselves. If anything, he could exhaust them until they were too tired to argue. He smiled to himself, knowing that it wouldn't do any good. Kids would always be kids and tiring them out would just make them even more prone to arguing.

He turned his head to try and make a joke to lighten the mood, but instead caught Max shiver, just once. His eyes widened as he wondered what the hell was really wrong with his daughter. He glanced again and she seemed to be just fine, until she brushed her long hair back from her face. Was he mistaken, or were her cheeks just a little flushed? He felt like cursing.

Max hadn't eaten that morning, which meant she hadn't taken her pills, probably. He hoped to hell that she wasn't heading down the path of seizures again. Those were damn scary. They'd had some minor episodes the past few years, but the kid was so damn good about taking her tryptophan and drinking plenty of milk. That's what he should have gotten her to drink earlier.

John began watching for the next road sign indicating a turn off. Just his luck, it wouldn't be for another hundred miles or so. But he watched for unmarked Mom and Pop establishments as well. But there were none. Finally, he pulled into yet another gas station. All three kids stared at him in surprise as he unbuckled his seat belt. He smiled at them. "What?" he joked, "It's contagious." That got a chuckle out of his kids and they took his hint.

The whole family climbed out of the car. Sammy stretched his long limbs, while Dean cracked his neck. Max just hurried off to find the little girls room. But John, instead of following nature's call, moved to unlock the trunk. "Dean?"

"Yes sir?"

"Go grab a carton of milk," he instructed. He glanced up, around the hood and saw Dean puzzling it out. "Max didn't get any today," he reminded his son.

His son nodded in sudden understanding and hurried inside to do as instructed. John pulled Max's bag up a little and unzipped it. Usually she carried her tryptophan there and true to herself, there it was, tucked away in a side pocket, easily accessible, should she need it. He pulled the bottle out and tucked it into his jacket pocket, before zipping up her bag and pushing it back into place. He'd have it with him on hand just in case she needed it. After shutting the trunk, he headed inside. He waited only a minute for Sam to come out of the rest room, but before going in, John handed Sam the keys for the Impala.

His son's eyes lit up as he realized that he was finally getting a turn to drive again. It seemed to happen so infrequently, in his teenaged mind. Sam hurried out to the car, determined to establish his place in the driver's seat before Dean could oust him. John took care of business and headed back to the car. Dean was leaning against the car, holding the half gallon jug of milk negligently. He straightened up when his father approached, not sure if John wanted to navigate or take a complete break. John waved him away and Dean obligingly moved to get in the back. He shifted Sam's bag of junk onto the floor and settled the milk in the center of the backseat. John passed him his own bag before Dean could even ask, then the box of cassette tapes that usually rested on the floor boards up front.

"You know," he grumbled, "we're never gonna get anywhere if we have to keep stopping."

"Dean," his father sighed. "Just lay off her okay?"

"All right," he mumbled. "I'm just saying is all." He went back to digging his tape player out of his bag before deciding on what he wanted to listen to. Max returned to the car, pausing as she saw the new arrangement, but gamely she climbed in. She shut her door and buckled up, not even realizing how far into the corner she scrunched herself, trying to stay out of her big brother's way. But it was for naught when he sat up and grabbed up the milk. He dumped it into her lap, making her gasp at the sudden cold contact.

"Here," he grumbled petulantly.

"I don't want it," she retorted automatically. She still couldn't handle being near Dean after the morning she had had.

"Tough," Dean responded, nudging it back to her. "Just take the damn stuff."

"I don't want it," she repeated heatedly. Sam's hand hovered over the key, unsure whether to wait for his father to settle this fight or to just drive. His father gave an encouraging nod and he started up the car.

Dean had no idea why his little sister was acting like such a brat. This was usually the type of attitude that Sammy gave. Maybe little brother was turning into a bad influence, but right then, Dean was tired of it. He grabbed Max's arm, intent on depositing the milk in her hand. He'd pour it down her damn throat if he had to. But he didn't get that far.

"Jesus Maxie!" he cried in sudden concern. "You're burning up!"

Sam, who'd been slowly pulling away from the parking lot, slammed his foot down on the brake so that he could turn and check on his sister. Those familiar words played havoc with them all.

Max glared at Dean. He would have to just go and notice that and bring it to everyone's attention. "I'm fine!" she snapped at him. John's hands were already fishing out her bottle of tryptophan.

"No you're not," Dean countered, his tone gentler, though he was still aggravated. Why couldn't she just have told them that she wasn't feeling well, instead of acting like a brat? Of course, nobody was at their best when they were sick. But Max being sick was just a little more monumental than a cold or the flu.

"Fine," Max snarled, yanking the milk away from him. She tore the cap off and proceeded to chug as much as she could. She wiped the dribble off her chin and then turned to glare at him again. "Happy now?" she demanded angrily. Without waiting for his reply, she turned and curled up in her corner of the car again. Dean wanted to protest, he wanted to rail at her for being so damn stubborn, but he knew right then to do so would be to risk his father's wrath. The man had told him just minutes ago to lay off his sister. Even though she was acting like a complete brat. And of course John was just going to let her get away with it. Dean retired to his figurative and literal corner and fumed about the injustices of being the eldest.

Sam was just glad when silence reigned in the car. He didn't count the slight noise bleed over from Dean's headphones. He could handle that. There were occasional murmurs from his father about watching his speed, or new directions to take. He didn't mind that. He knew his father could be a lot worse when it came to his kids driving. He was when Dean got his learner's permit. Of course Dean had a wild streak when it came to the car. Sam prided himself about being more grown-up about his turn for taking the wheel. That was why he passed his driver's test on the first time, unlike his older brother, who'd taken the test twice.

Since they'd eaten snacks in the car, John decided to try and make up some time by not stopping for lunch. He figured that the next large town they stopped at, he'd find a motel and they could have an early supper. But even as he made these plans, he heard Max's voice pipe up from the back seat. Another bathroom break. Dean was right; they were never going to get there.

Sam dutifully pulled over and shut off the car, knowing by now that Max would be a little bit. And as soon as she was gone out of earshot, Dean yanked the head phones from his ears and leaned forward.

"You know, she's totally being a brat, right?" he demanded of his father.

"She's sick Dean," John sighed, resigned. "That's not her fault."

"Yeah, I get that," he replied. "But taking it out on us is her problem." He sucked in his breath, holding it for a moment, wondering if he dare push on. But it needed to be said. "And you're totally letting her get away with it." Dean swallowed heavily as one of John's eyebrows arched up. "I mean yeah, I was teasing her, but I quit and she didn't." He tried hard not to back down in the face of his father's impassive stare. Thankfully Sammy chose that moment to speak up.

"Dean's right Dad," he spoke softly, not wanting to push his father either, but for once, both brothers were united on this. It wasn't that they were jealous of how John treated Max. Hell, they were a little on the protective side too. And it wasn't like Max was a little trouble maker. Things just sort of… slid… around her. "If Dean or I were acting like that, you'd totally kick our butts." He glanced back at his brother. "I mean, I know you wouldn't kick Max's butt, but you know what I mean."

"I know," John agreed after a moment. He sighed and let his gaze drop, thinking back through his memory, trying to ascertain if what the boys had said was true. Did he have a tendency to go easy on Max? Well, he did, to a certain point. Making allowances for her because she hadn't grown up in their family. Because of her seizures. But maybe the boys were right. Maybe her behavior was getting a little out of hand. "I'll go talk to her," he decided. He wasn't going to apologize to them and the boys knew it. But at least he was going to rectify things.

Max had dashed into the bathroom of the gas station, surprised to see that it was larger than all the previous ones. Which meant it had two stalls instead of one. And to her consternation, the other stall was occupied. She bit back a groan, not wanting the other person to see what a state she was in. As the toilet flushed and the door began to open, Max did the first thing she could think of. She hurried across the room and fished a quarter out of her pocket. With her back to the other person, she dumped the quarter into the slot and prayed fervently that the woman would hurry up and leave.

But as the water came on and stayed on, Max knew that she was out of luck. She twisted the dial around and grabbed whatever the hell it had been in the machine. Max's eyes dropped down to the product she'd just bought and rolled her eyes. Well, she was in the charade now, might as well make it believable. She closed her hand around the tampon and marched into the second stall, determinedly avoiding the other woman. She shut and locked the stall door behind herself, turned around and shifted uncomfortably. Finally the water stopped and she heard the tear of paper towel. A moment later, the clang of the trash lid and the solid whoosh of the heavy door opening and the slow return as it closed. Max exhaled and dropped the tampon in the little garbage canister before hurrying to splash that heavenly cold water on her still overheated cheeks.

John was waiting outside the rest room, wondering what on earth he was going to say to Max. Lecturing her wasn't like lecturing Dean or Sam. And if she was sick, then he didn't want to be yelling at her. Did he even want to yell in the first place? It wasn't like she was totally unreasonable. Stubborn yes, they all were. She fit in well in that respect. But the boys had made a point, of some sort. It was just that for the life of him, he couldn't' see where things went wrong, if they were indeed, really wrong. But there wasn't any more time for contemplation as he noticed the ladies room door open. But when an older woman stepped out, John sighed with relief. Dealing with a little girl was just so different from dealing with his boys.

The women though, that had just stepped out, seemed to notice his distraction. "That your girl in there?" she asked kindly. John realized that she was speaking to him and jerked his head up.

"Wha-?" he began, startled, until he realized what she'd asked. "Yeah, it is. Is she okay?"

The woman relaxed and chuckled, nodding her head. "She's just fine. How old is she?"

"Thirteen," John replied cautiously. Suddenly, he saw the appearance of how the situation might seem. Older guy, lurking around the women's bathroom of a gas station. That did not sit well, but at least this lady didn't seem to be jumping to conclusions. He sighed and let his hand run over his tired face. "The kids have been going at it for hours," he revealed, slipping into tired, haggard father mode. "They're about to drive me nuts."

"How many do you have?" the woman asked, a hint of amused sympathy in her voice.

"Three," he confided. "Two boys and Maxie," he let himself smile softly. "Dean and Sam are older and they've been picking on her all morning." The woman nodded.

"I have two girls myself," she told him. "Though they're both college aged now." John nodded. "But believe me; they fought worse than boys do."

John laughed. His boys had gotten into some doozies of a fight. "I'm not so sure about that."

The woman shook her head. "You've never seen a fight until you've been in the middle of a hair pulling extravaganza," her words held the ring of familiarity and finality and John really believed her right then. He smiled again, really amused this time. Thank God the boys didn't resort to that kind of sissy behavior. "And their voices," the woman continued, comfortable with her chattiness to a complete stranger. Parenthood was a universal woe. "When you've got girls, their voices get up into octaves you can't even imagine." John laughed.

"Yeah," he agreed. "At least with the boys, I can just grab them by their ears and make them behave. Max on the other hand…" he trailed off. He didn't really ever have to discipline Max.

"Oh I'm sure your wife knows how to deal with it," the woman shrugged. She stopped, eying John a little warily at the sudden change in his demeanor.

"My wife died when the kids were little," he explained quickly, though the pain still lanced through him at having to say it. Duller, not as sharp as it once had been to admit, but the pain was still there.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she sympathized. She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Your daughter seemed so…"

"So what?" John demanded, puzzled and worried again.

"When she was in the bathroom," the woman began again, looking slightly uncomfortable herself. "Well, knowing now, I can see why maybe she was so uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable with what?" John demanded, his ire rising. He wished this woman would just spit it out.

"You do know, don't you," she asked quietly then, leaning forward in a conspiratorial manner. At John's helpless shake of his head, she took a half step forward to whisper, "That she's grown up."

"What?" John tried to make sense out of what she was trying to tell him. The woman glanced away, a slight tinge of blush coloring her cheeks. Then she chuckled.

"My husband was just as dense," she told him wryly. "Your daughter has become a woman." She stared pointedly at him, her chin down, her eyes boring into his. And suddenly it all made sense. The extra nap, the crankiness, the frequent pit stops. John's jaw dropped as he put all this information together.

"Oh hell!"

A/N- So at last we come to the heat. Instead of going over this a few times, I decided to get this out of the way here. Yes, Max is thirteen. Since the show never gave us a timeline when heat started occurring, I went with the popular theory of puberty. But, we also don't know how feline DNA affects human DNA in this aspect. So I formed another theory and will explain it within the next chapter. I know that nowadays puberty is starting at a younger age for most girls, but I felt that heat for Max before she was a teen was pushing the envelope just a little far in this instance. I feel that this subject needs to be explored at an easy rate instead of one chapter and bang everything's done. Heat was probably something Max agonized over and didn't quite understand for a long time. So it will probably be that way for her in this fiction. And again, because I don't see her accomplishing womanhood in a matter of moments, her heat dreams will reflect that. This first one was vague and she didn't understand too much of the physicality besides the obvious. Hopefully we'll have some more fun down the road as her… understanding… broadens. (wink wink)


	18. The Differences Between

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident. grins evilly)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Eighteen

The Differences Between

The woman stared at John, amusement written all over her face. She held out her hand. "Now that I've broken the devastating news about your daughter, let me introduce myself. I'm Donna."

John returned the gesture automatically, not even thinking of using one of his aliases. "John."

"You really had no clue?" Donna asked sympathetically. John shook his head. "Well, you know, I've always thought that it was easier on fathers than on husbands to have to deal with this."

"How do you mean?" John asked suspiciously. Donna chuckled.

"Well, young men get quite a shock when they have to deal with their wife's cycle the first few times," she explained with a shrug. "At least dads know about it, even if they don't see it coming."

John thought back to Mary. There had been a few times that he'd wanted to tear his hair out in frustration because of her mood swings, or her demands that he run out and get supplies for her. But Donna was right, after a few months, he was able to deal with it a lot better. But Mary had been a woman. He knew absolutely nothing about young girls. And it must have shown on his face, since Donna was now patting his arm.

"You're still a little lost," she smiled. "Want some help. Like I've said, I've got two girls, so I know all about this stuff."

John nodded. "I know what my wife would have gotten, but I…" he was at a very obvious loss.

"But it's not the same as what a young woman needs," Donna concluded for him. She gestured and began walking towards a new aisle.

"Just a second," John murmured. He moved forward and knocked loudly on the woman's bathroom door. "Max?" he called loudly. "Sweetie, I'm going to grab a few things. I'll meet you out at the car. All right?"

There was a slight pause and then, "okay Dad."

John nodded to himself, mentally setting himself to deal with this. At least, he told himself, there was something good come out of this. She was behaving this way for a totally normal, growing up related reason, not because she was about to keel over from a potentially dangerous seizure. His mind clung to that fact as he followed Donna down the feminine care aisle.

"You really can't get much at a gas station," she was muttering to herself. "Maybe you should wait until you get to town and stop at a grocery store."

John thought it over and shook his head. "I don't know if we'll get a chance to stop. Probably better to stock up now."

Donna apparently agreed with him as she began removing a few items from the shelves. "These and this is better, and she might not need these, but it doesn't hurt to have them." She turned and deposited the wares into John's hands and he stared down at the products. He stared longest at the Midol package.

"I have acetaminophen," he told the woman slowly. But Donna shook her head.

"That would be okay, but too much of it can cause liver damage," she explained.

"That's right," John sighed. "I knew that."

"You'll probably want to get her something soothing to drink, like ginger ale or something, and comfort food," she continued. "It's too bad they don't sell hot water bottles here. My daughter's couldn't live without them."

"I don't have that," John thought out loud, reviewing the contents of their trunk. Thinking about it now, he wondered why. Since they all got bumped and bruised on the job, it would make sense to have some other sort of pain relief.

"You know, you could always make one from an old laundry detergent jug," Donna offered. John turned questioning eyes on her. "You know those big jugs? You just fill them up with hot water and they keep the heat forever. Plus they don't flop around like those little bottles do."

"How'd you come up with that?" John asked. It sounded like a good idea to him.

"Farm wife," Donna grinned. "When you're short on cash and long on sore backs, you improvise pretty well." They heard a horn honking and both turned to glance out the large front window. "Oh dear. Looks like my husband is ready to go." She turned back to John and glanced down at his armload of wares. "Well, you should be set. Good luck with your daughter."

"Thank you," John really meant it. He didn't think he could navigate these waters by himself. He followed her to the end of the aisle and then turned right where Donna went left. He quickly searched the coolers until he found the ginger ale. With his free hand, he pulled out a two liter bottle and then headed back to the counter. He set the products down, glancing up with more than his fair share of embarrassment at the male clerk. "For my daughter," he explained gruffly.

The kid grinned as he began ringing things up. "I didn't think it was for you," he retorted cheekily. "At least I was really, really hoping." It seemed to John that the kid was handling it better than he was. But then again, the kid was probably used to guys dashing in here to grab this stuff at their wife or girlfriend's insistence. He brightened momentarily. He'd just now thought of the perfect punishment for the boys. His grin widened as he took on the mental picture of Dean's face at being told he had to go buy feminine products.

Of course Sammy would just take it in stride. Like how John had eventually been able to do for Mary. It was nothing in the later years to stop and pick up stuff, the tea she liked, a few magazines and her favorite chocolate bar. John brightened as that thought hit him. Donna had said something about comfort food. There was nothing more comforting to women than chocolate, right? Quickly, he scrambled over to the candy bars, not far from the till. He searched the selection. He had no clue what Max liked, since she always seemed to buy different kinds when she could. Finally, he grabbed a few types of plain chocolate bars, one with nuts and another with crispy rice thingies. He added them to the pile and breathed a sigh of relief when the kid asked him if he wanted a bag.

"Please!"

John returned to the car, package in hand. It was a nice brown paper bag, the top of which he'd folded over. He slid into the front passenger's side and settled it onto the floor boards. Max still hadn't come out, but he wasn't as worried as he would have been.

"What did you get?" Sammy asked curiously. John looked up and took in both boys.

"None of your business," he told them amicably. "Just leave it alone." Dean and Sam exchanged a glance. Dean shrugged and turned back to a book he was perusing. Sam frowned, but dismissed it. It was probably something to snack on later. They waited a few more minutes for Max to return and nothing more was said once she was in the car. She wasn't looking at John or the boys, but that seemed par for the day and they ignored her just as easily. Both Sam and Dean wondered in their own way what had passed between their father and sister, if in fact anything was said. But neither John nor Max seemed inclined to discuss anything.

This time, they were able to go for a few hours before John called another halt. This time they all went in again, since the boys were starting to feel hunger gnawing at their bellies. The crackers were long gone and John hadn't said anything about what was in the bag. Dean grabbed some chips and some more pop while Sam perused the pre-wrapped sandwiches, before giving in and imitating his brother. They were back in the car before their Dad or Max though and curiosity was burning up Sam's mind.

"What do you think he got Dean?" he asked his brother suddenly.

Dean glanced up from his bag of chips. "Huh?"

"The bag," Sam gestured to the floor. "What do you think is in it?"

"I don't know," Dean grimaced, and then popped another chip in his mouth. He watched his brother carefully, seeing the younger man's hand twitching. "Leave it alone Sammy," he warned.

"I wasn't gonna," Sam snapped, even though he had been tempted.

"Dad said to leave it alone," Dean reiterated. "So leave it alone."

"Aren't you curious?" Sam demanded. Dean shrugged. "Really? Not at all."

"Not really Sammy," Dean grinned. Truthfully, he was curious. But he could curb that nature when he needed to and right now was one of those times.

"Well I want to know," Sam decided as he checked out the window to see if his father or Max was coming. He dove for the bag and brought it up to his lap.

"Sammy!" Dean's voice was threatening. Bu the kid was already yanking the top open.

"Oh!" Sam's disgust and shock was painfully evident in his voice. "That is just…" He turned and thrust the bag under Dean's nose. There was no way his brother could not see what was sitting right on top of everything.

"Oh!" Dean repeated his little brother's woe. "Thanks Sammy! Thanks a lot. I really didn't need to see that." He pushed the bag away.

Sam grinned as he took the bag back and perused the contents again. He was relieved a little, when he looked up again at his brother. "Well at least we know why Max is being so bitchy today."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Solves that little mystery."

"Oh man," Sam groaned. "You know what this means, don't you?" He looked horrified. "We're gonna have to deal with this every month now."

Dean let his head fall back against the seat, his hands covering his eyes as his heels ground at cheekbones. "Shut up Sammy! Just stop. I really don't want to think about Maxie… Argh!"

Sam grinned again; delight in tormenting Dean overriding the natural tendency for boys to freak out about this stuff. Unfortunately, as he let his mood lighten, he also let his guard drop and he never noticed his father's approach until the car door began to open. With lightening speed, he threw the bag onto the floor. John casually got into the car, another package in hand, and glanced down at the slightly askew bag from before.

He calmly set down the new bag, pulled the car door shut and then turned in his seat. "Now, when I tell you to stay out of something, you're going to stay out of it, right?"

Both boys were hanging their heads, blushes suffusing their cheeks. "Yes sir," they mumbled together. John laughed and let the matter drop. That would certainly teach those boys to listen to their father. Now he just wondered who had instigated this. His money was on Sam, since Dean was in the backseat and more inclined to follow his father's directives. Didn't matter though, he'd caught them both. The blushes told him that much.

Max finally returned, her face glistening from a fresh scrubbing. John reached into the second bag at his feet and pulled a small bottle of ginger ale from it. He passed it back to Max, who took it without a word. They got underway again, their thoughts tumbling round their heads.

Dean watched Max surreptitiously, trying to acclimate to this new dimension of his sister. It wasn't like this whole thing was new to him. He'd had enough health classes and casual girlfriends, locker talk and man to man talks with his father to know about this stuff. But you just didn't go around thinking about your little sister becoming a woman. The two things were just meant to be separate. At least for now. But, he mused, as hard as this was on him and Sam and their Dad, it must be a lot tougher for Max. Here she was surrounded by guys, who knew almost nothing about what was happening to her. She didn't have a woman she could talk to. And from the little he heard and understood about the process, it really wasn't that pleasant for some women. So he figured they'd have to cut her some slack for the extra crankiness. And if it happened every month, well, they'd learn to deal with it. Another glance at his sister told him that she was getting sleepy.

"Hey dad?" he called softly up to the front. John turned his head. "Are we going to be stopping soon?"

"Yeah," John nodded. "First hotel we hit, we'll check in, then go get some dinner. Okay?"

"Sounds good," he agreed. But Max apparently, couldn't wait that long.

She'd fallen asleep again; her head nestled up against the window. But every time they went across the slightest bump in the road, she was jostled awake from her head banging on the unyielding glass. Finally they hit a stretch of smoother road and she was asleep for almost ten minutes. But Dean knew that wouldn't last. That's why he rarely slept in the car now. Felling more than just a little sorry for Max, he carefully eased her over so that she was more towards the center of the backseat. That change in position was enough to make her upper torso slide towards him. Her head came to rest against his upper arm.

With a sigh, Dean carefully unearthed his arm and let her fall fully against his chest. He turned slightly and Max sighed in her sleep as she made herself comfortable. With a hidden thoughtfulness that people rarely saw from him, aside from his own family, he pulled his coat from his bag and laid it across her. With Max taken care of, he reached for his book again; one arm wrapped around her and lost himself for the rest of the trip in a fantasy world where the author made laughable use of things Dean's family faced on a near daily basis.

When they pulled into, as John promised, the first motel they came across, Max still had not awoken. John turned and perused his eldest and youngest for a moment.

"After I check us in, you boys take a walk, okay," he instructed. They both nodded. He left them then and though he tried to be quiet, the car door shutting woke Max. She sat straight up, surprise and confusion in her eyes.

"Hey sleepy head," Dean smiled. Max glanced around, seeing that they were finally at the end of that day's journey.

"Hey," she responded hesitantly.

"Did you sleep okay?" Sam asked politely. Max shrugged, then nodded.

"I guess I make a decent pillow, huh Sammy?" Dean chuckled. "I'll have to remember that." He glanced at Max and took in her blush and took pity on her. "Don't worry, you weren't drooling or anything. Not that I was worried you would or anything when I rescued you."

"Rescued me?" she repeated, clearly confused.

"Yeah," Dean snorted. "Rescued you from a migraine. Man, the way your head was bouncing against the window, you could have ended up with a real nasty one."

"Oh," was her short reply. "Well, thank you."

"No problem," Dean shrugged. Max ducked her head again and then peeked up at him through her slightly tangled hair.

"I'm sorry," she finally mumbled. "About earlier, I mean."

"It's okay," he dismissed her behavior with a quick flick of his head to one side. "Everyone's entitled to a bad day now and then."

"But still," Sammy interjected, "it needed to be said."

Max apparently agreed with him and nodded. "I didn't mean to be so bitchy."

"So," Dean shrugged. "Just next time tell us you're in a bad mood. We'll lay off."

"Oh you would not," Max shrieked suddenly, though her eyes were dancing merrily. "You'd just keep picking on me."

"Who me?" Dean tried to sound innocent, but clearly neither sibling was convinced. They stared at him with knowing eyes. Finally he gave in. "Yeah you're right. I would pick," he poked her shoulder, "On." Another poke on the leg. "You!" A final poke on the knee.

"Quit it," Max giggled, trying to shove his hand away.

"No," Dean grunted, continuing to poke. He was just glad that Max was in a better mood now. "Poke, poke, poke. I'm the big brother; I have to pick on the kiddies. It's my sacred birthright."

"Quit it, quit it, quit it!" Max shrieked between laughter. Sam's laughter joined hers and Dean turned to smirk at his brother.

"Don't think I'm gonna quit picking on you either Sammy boy!"

"Oh no!" Sam yelled, backing away the minimal distance that the front seat afforded him, too busy laughing to protest his despised nickname. Dean started wiggling his fingers, but was distracted when Max got in a cheap shot under his arm. He turned back to her, fingers searching out tickle spots. In moments, he had her howling, while her feet kicked at the floor in a wild staccato beat.

"You give?" he finally demanded. Max, breathless, nodded and he let her sit up. Only to be surprised when she leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. He pulled back, staring at her with his brows furrowed. "What was that for?"

"For being such a good big brother," she shrugged, blushing slightly again. Dean's face softened, the feel of her warm lips pressed against his cheek and the sentiment behind it sizzling itself into his brain. She really was a one of a kind kid.

Before the antics could start up again, John returned. He motioned the kids out of the car and they obeyed immediately. He handed one of his cards to Dean and told him and Sam to go see about some food while he and Max unloaded the car. Knowing his full intent, the boys hurried away, leaving John to turn to Max. With a kind smile, he retrieved the keys for the trunk. He handed Max the room key, pointing out which room they'd been assigned. She dutifully opened the door and then returned to the trunk to help carry in bags.

She thought they had everything but John made one more trip to the car to retrieve the bags from earlier. Max could see on his face when he came in with them and shut the door behind him, that something serious was going on in his mind. He gestured for her to sit and she sat warily on the corner of the bed further from the door.

John with uncharacteristic nervousness took a seat on the bed across from her. He set the packages beside himself and then turned to stare at her for a moment, unsure how to start.

"Um, I sent the boys for dinner so we could talk," he informed her quietly. Max could feel a sense of dread welling up in her throat.

"Okay," she replied, just as hesitant as he was.

"I was talking earlier today, with that lady… in the gas station," he told her. Max's mind flew to the only woman he could possibly be referring to. The woman from the bathroom. What did she know? What did she say? Max's mind was screaming at her. She nodded slowly, trying to breathe deeply. John glanced away and scratched at the back of his head. "She um, she told you that you might need this," he got out the words in a rush before grabbing up the first bag and thrusting it into her hands.

Max stared at him, puzzled before her gaze dropped to the bag. She carefully opened the top, unable to imagine what might be in store for her. And when she realized what she was looking at, she was surprised and oddly, touched as she was fully able to understand why John was so nervous. Her hand reached into the brown paper container as a glint of silver caught her eye. She pulled out five chocolate bars and an impish grin stretched her mouth.

"You got me chocolate bars?" she asked shyly. John shook his head, an answering smile on his face to match her own.

"Mary, the boys mom," he tried to explain. "Well, she always craved chocolate, you know, at that time of the month." He shrugged. "I didn't know if you would to, but I thought it couldn't hurt."

Max's eyes misted up, the shared concern of her family touching her deeply. This was why Dean and Sammy were being so understanding now with her. They all thought… but they didn't know that that wasn't the case. Max dropped the candy back into the bag. "Thank you," and she really meant it. Here they all were trying their hardest to make this better for her, even though they themselves didn't really know how to handle it.

"That woman, Donna," John rushed on, "she told me how you could make a hot water bottle too, in case you're sore or something." He then pulled out an empty jug and Max was puzzled about where, why and how John had gotten it. He obviously saw that and explained wryly. "There was a small Laundromat at the last place we stopped." She nodded dumbly, still not understanding. "You fill it up with hot water," John explained patiently. "To use on your um… back. Or wherever else. Mary's legs used to cramp up," he mumbled.

"Oh, um okay," Max muttered. She took the empty bottle from him and set it beside her. "Was, uh, was that what you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess," John stammered. "Um, unless you had some questions or something, uh about it all."

"Well," Max drawled nervously. Was it possible that she could ask John about things? True, he seemed very embarrassed, but she could sense that he genuinely wanted to help her. She decided to go ahead and take a chance. Of course there were details that she'd most definitely leave out. "This um," she gestured to the bag, "this wasn't what was bothering me, uh, today."

"Oh," the relief on John's face was palpable. "What was it then?" Max blushed and glanced away and John forced himself to think the day through. This had all started this morning after Max had woken up to a bad dream. She'd been cranky all day. But John focused on that. A bad dream. Max never really had bad dreams before. And then again, it suddenly clicked. "Your bad dream wasn't really a bad dream, was it?"

He was glad to see that Max looked relieved as well. She nodded, still battling a blush. "It was um, more of a, um…"

"Bad as in a little more grown up than you're used to?" John asked, now amused. He could deal with this. It was a lot safer and more familiar territory for him. After all, he'd managed this when it happened to the boys. Granted, a girl's take on things might be different. Max nodded and John drew in a deep breath. "Okay, we can handle this. I'm just going to tell you the same thing I told Dean and Sam. Except of course, for a girl." He was pleased when that got a small giggle out of her.

"You probably had a dream about a boy, right?" She nodded. "And in this dream, you were doing things that I don't, really don't want to hear, right?" Again she nodded. "The thing is, though, it is completely normal to have dreams like that."

"But," Max protested, frustrated. "This boy that I was dreaming about, I don't… like him like that, you know?"

"Just a friend?" John asked knowingly. Max nodded. He shrugged it off. "It doesn't matter," he informed her kindly. "Right now, your brain and your body are kind of on different wave lengths. Your brain is saying, hey, that's my friend. And your body is saying boy! We like boys!" Max laughed heartily at that. "It's okay though. Your mind is just figuring out that boys are for more than being your brother or your dad or just a friend. One day you'll grow up and want to date and get married and your brain will start liking boys the way your body does." He sighed and held her gaze. "Does that answer your questions?"

Max nodded happily. It certainly did. Because technically, Dean wasn't her blood brother, so her body didn't know the difference. If they were blood kin, she was certain she wouldn't have those types of dreams about him. And like John said, it was just her body going naturally haywire, like everyone else's. Plus there was the fact that Sam and Dean had gone through this. So it wasn't way out of this world. John held out his arms and Max moved to let him embrace her. He stood and hugged her, hunching over to drop a kiss on her head.

"Just do me a favor kiddo," he whispered. Max glanced up. "Just don't like boys too much yet. Okay?"

"Okay," she giggled.

John left Max to settle in and see if he could find the boys. It wasn't hard, as they were just now returning with an armload of pizza boxes. There was relief in Dean's eyes when he saw his father approach and he nudged his brother, who was bearing most of the supper load.

"Hey, you found something edible?" John grinned, his mood considerably lighter since getting things out in the open with Max.

"Amazingly enough," Dean smirked, "pizza that only took twenty minutes."

"Smells good," John approved and moved to take the boxes from Sam.

"You haven't had to carry it for three blocks," Sam rumbled good-naturedly. They turned to continue walking back to the motel.

"So Dad," Dean clapped his father on the shoulder with his free hand that wasn't carrying soda. "You had the big, bad, scary sex talk with Max?"

"Dean!" Sam groaned. "We don't need to hear about it?"

"I wasn't asking for details Sammy," Dean grinned. "Just wanted to make sure Dad was doing his duty."

"Yes Dean," John drawled, ruffling his son's hair. "I had the talk with Max. And I must say, it went a lot better than yours." Dean's eyes narrowed dangerously, the very moment that John brought that up. But John pushed on relentlessly. "At least she didn't ask me why they call an erection-!"

"No!" Dean shouted, rushing to his brother and clamping his hands over Sammy's ears. "No, no, no, no, no! We're not discussing this!"

"What?" Sam demanded "What'd Dean say Dad?" He tried fruitlessly to push Dena's hands off him but Dean was resolute.

"You said that was private," Dean protested over John's laughter. "You promised!" he thundered accusingly. Sam finally managed to get away from his brother, waiting breathlessly for a tidbit that he could torment his older brother with, but when John finally stopped laughing, Sam was doomed to disappointment.

"He's right son, that was a private talk," John apologized. "Just like ours was."

"Thank god," Dean growled. John pointed out their assigned room, which wasn't difficult to find, since Max had opened the door for them when she heard their voices. They settled down to eat and things seemed to be back to normal.

But normal for them wasn't the normal everyone else enjoyed. A few weeks down the road, Max awoke to discover that while she'd made a silly mistake, purchasing that feminine care product in front of that woman, Donna, and setting off that tempest in a teacup, John wasn't really all that hasty in buying her that little care package.

But what really had her flummoxed was the fact that she didn't need it again for another five months. At least this time she had some warning. When the dreams started up again, with Dean being even more of a naughty boy and then to her relief, a dream about an actor from a television show they enjoyed, Max was forewarned. And like clockwork, two weeks later, she was into that care package.

When she came out from her morning ablutions, John and the boys were discussing breakfast. There were a few places to choose from and John wanted to order something to go and just eat on the road.

"What do you think Max?" he asked off-handedly. "What do you feel like eating?"

"Um," she thought for a moment, remembering back to Dean's suggestion that she warn them about being in a bad mood and this seemed like it was going to be one of those days. "A chocolate bar sounds really good right now."

John was startled for a moment and then he grinned. She grimaced back at him, looking cross and he understood perfectly. That time again. "All right princess," he sighed. "I don't know about chocolate bars but I'm sure we can find you something along that line."

Sam and Dean were caught off guard, since they knew nothing of what had transpired during the father daughter talk way back when. But when John mouthed the words 'that time of the month' to them, they understood. And in silent agreement, decided to lay off any teasing or anything that might get them kicked.

But as John was musing about it later, another night in another motel, he admitted to himself that he'd been a little worried. Truthfully, he thought that Max would have been like she'd been today, cranky, out of sorts, tired, long before. By his count, it had been months, since he couldn't remember any incidents between. He wondered if something might be… wrong. Or abnormal. Or maybe he was just worrying too much about things he knew very little about.

He wished fervently then that Mary was still alive. That she could handle this problem for him. Although they wouldn't have been in this situation since it was Mary's death that ultimately led to their adopting Max. But if they'd had a daughter of their own… Really though, it wasn't specifically Mary. He just needed a woman that could talk to Max. Someone she trusted. And there were few of those. He supposed he could always call Ellen Harvelle. Except that she'd likely be inclined to hunt him down and shoot him over past mistakes rather than advise him on little girls growing up.

John sat up from his spot on the floor. Why hadn't he thought of it earlier? Molly Gallagher! Max routinely talked with the older lady, calling or writing her every few months. She was certainly someone Max could feel comfortable with. And John trusted her. Feeling the need to put thought into action, he mentally calculated the time difference between here and Montana. It should be just before ten there and he knew that Molly would still be up.

Slipping out from under the blanket, John found his coat and phone. He quietly slipped out of the motel room and slid into the Impala. He looked up Molly's number in his notebook from the glove box. And thankfully, the woman answered after two rings.

"Hello?"

"Molly? It's John Winchester."

"Oh John! How wonderful to hear from you. Is everything okay?" It was evident in her voice that she truly was delighted to hear from him.

"Everything's pretty good," John replied automatically.

"And Max and Sam and Dean," Molly continued pressing. "They're all well."

That kind of gave John an unexpected glow of happiness. Most people would just ask after the kids, but not Molly. She listed each one, because they all mattered to her. Not just his little girl that she'd taken under her wing. He knew instinctively that he'd done the right thing, calling her.

"It's actually about Max that I called you," John told her.

"Okay," Molly was all business. "What's the problem?"

"Well," for some reason John didn't feel the embarrassment that he'd thought he'd feel discussing these matters with another woman. Perhaps it was because Molly was old enough to be his mother. "You know that Max has grown up a bit since you last saw her?"

"Yes," Molly chuckled. "She told me so the last time she called me." There was a pause. "Is that what has you worried?"

"No, not really," John chuckled. "I can handle it. I guess." He sighed and got back on track. "No, the problem is, is that she isn't really, well regular."

"Regular how?" Molly demanded. "Do you mean for pain or… what?"

"No, I mean, it's been a while between them," John clarified. "By my count, about four or five months." He inhaled deeply. "Is that normal at her age?"

"Oh goodness yes," Molly laughed. "Although I don't recall my girls going so long, but when a young girl first starts out, it takes time for her body to establish itself."

"Oh good," John sighed in relief.

"I'm just surprised that you've been keeping track," Molly teased.

"Well, I thought it might be a good idea to know when PMS hits," John half-joked.

"Is it bad?" Molly asked drolly.

"Well, she hasn't thrown anything at us yet," John sighed. "Mary used to, once in a while." Molly wisely refrained from commenting on that.

"Well, have you thought John that just because she didn't have PMS, the other didn't happen?"

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that," John was surprised. He thought the two naturally went hand in hand.

"Or," Molly went on, "oh, have you heard of secretary's syndrome?"

"I can't say that I have."

"Well the theory goes that when a group of women work together, the female with the strongest hormones sets the lead, if you take my meaning," Molly explained. "And the rest of the women follow suit. It's the same with mothers and daughters. Generally the daughters follow after their mothers."

"But Max doesn't have her mom," John concluded quietly.

"Which means that her body is having to establish it's own patterns with no help whatsoever," Molly finished for him. There was quiet for a moment. "And you know, I just thought…"

"Yes?" John asked, clearing his throat.

"I had read somewhere, about young women athletes, they don't seem to have a regular set schedule either," Molly mused. "And Max is quite athletic. Perhaps that's a contributing factor."

"Maybe," John agreed dubiously. He straightened up in the car. "So basically you're telling me I don't really need to worry?"

"Not at all John," Molly chuckled. "Just give her some time to let her body get itself sorted out. I'd say that if she hasn't established a set routine within the next few years, then perhaps you should think of seeing a doctor. But as long as it's happening, I don't think it will be a problem."

"Okay," John said as the weight was lifted from his chest.

"And tell Max to give me a call," Molly instructed. "I'll help her sort through this and set her mind at ease. You know, if you're worried about it, she's probably going slightly nutty."

"Probably," he agreed with a laugh.

"And John," Molly sounded all serious now. "You and the boys don't need an excuse to call me either. Sam and Dean have just as much right to call me as Max does."

Again, John was touched. "I'll pass that message on. Thank you Molly."

"It was my pleasure John," she replied. "You take care now."

They hung up and John returned to the room. His heart was much lighter and his mind at ease. Now he could get back to the regular mess his life happened to be.


	19. Baby Of Mine

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident. grins evilly)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Nineteen

Baby Of Mine

"Once again a lovely meal Molly," John sighed as he pushed his chair back from the large oak table. Their host, Molly Gallagher smiled and nodded to acknowledge the compliment. Before she could rise though, to begin clearing the meal away, the children, though you could barely call Sammy and Max that, let alone Dean, jumped up and beat her to it.

They'd stayed for a visit after Molly had extended an invitation through Max. It had been nice to take a small break from hunting. Although they did take a four day trip up to the ghost town of Bannack, it didn't really count since no actual hunting was done. Except when Dean thought he'd lost the car keys. He swore up and done that a poltergeist had squirreled them away, but in reality, it had been Sam. That had started off yet another prank war that John and Max had to avoid. Although they certainly weren't shy about providing the boys with certain ideas. John and Max had seemed to develop a good natured contest about topping each other's ideas. Whether or not they were used by the boys didn't seem to matter.

They'd returned to Molly's in high spirits which made the older woman glad. She'd long ago thought that these children and John had way too much to deal with. The kids had had to grow up fast and lonely and they needed time to be children. Even Dean needed the chance to be a young man. And in realizing that fact again, Molly had invited them to stay longer. Since John knew of no pressing jobs to be done, he'd agreed. But only after he was certain that it was no imposition on Molly.

When the kids were done clearing the table away, they waited to see if Molly had anything planned. Usually she liked to play cards in the evening and sometimes board games. Since she was their hostess, they graciously gave in, but after a few rounds of this together time, they found that it wasn't that bad and began to look forward to it. Some nights she and John just talked over coffee. And it seemed now that that's what she wanted to do.

"Max?" she asked softly as the girl took her seat. Max straightened her chair and then gave her full attention to Molly. "Have you told your father what Justine told you?"

Max shook her head. That was one nice thing about coming back to Geraldine. She got to see old friends. It had been a number of years since she'd seen anyone from around here and she'd been startled by the change four years had wrought in her friend. And she was sure that Justine had been just as surprised.

"She told me that Mr. Larson is going to be doing a driver's Ed course, starting next week," she informed her family. And as she expected, there were 'so what?' looks all around.

"If you're interested," Molly interjected, continuing on the vein of conversation for the girl, "Max can still sign up for it. With that course, she'd be eligible to get her driver's license now instead of waiting another year."

Now there was interest and if she read them right, slight looks of jealousy from Sam and Dean.

"I thought she had to be a resident to get her license," John frowned. This was unexpected. But not altogether a bad idea. His first thought went straight to hunting. Having Max legally able to drive was a bonus in case any of them were too hurt to drive. Not that he could foresee a situation where it would occur, but it never hurt to be prepared.

"But she is," Molly smiled. "Technically you all are."

"How can we be?" John countered with his own smile. "We were only here for nine months."

"Yes, but you didn't let the post office know that you'd moved until well after you were gone. So based on that technicality, you officially lived in Geraldine for well over a year," Molly concluded. John let out a short bark of laughter. Truthfully, he had forgotten about the post office box they'd had until a letter had been forwarded to them from it. Only then had he taken steps to shut it down. At least he'd gotten another credit card out of it. But nothing that linked them to the town remained, except for their friendships that they'd made with certain residents.

Turning to his daughter, John perused her face, wondering why she hadn't mentioned this to him. "Is this something you want to do?" he asked of her casually. He got a shrug in reply. He turned back to Molly. "How long is the course?"

"Rich said it'll be eight weeks," Molly answered promptly.

"Can we even stay that long?" Sam asked worriedly. John knew from his son's tone of voice that the boy would like to stay. But the same thing occurred to him. Staying with Molly a few weeks was one thing, staying put in a town they'd left behind them, for two months might be pushing things. They'd run last time because something had been getting close to his family and all his senses had been urging him to get the hell out of there. But again, there were only so many times they could cross over the continental United States without backtracking somewhere.

"I don't think we can," John sighed. Sam was right, even though there was nothing right now; something was bound to turn up as it usually did.

"Well actually," Molly hedged, setting her coffee cup down, mentally steeling herself for the announcement she was about to make. "I did have another reason for asking you to stay on a little longer."

"What's that?" Dean asked with an impish smile. He'd had the feeling right from the start that Molly hadn't invited them for their own good. He knew of course that she liked having people around to talk to. But every once in a while, he'd catch her giving them these sort of measured looks.

"I was wondering if you'd be able to help me pack up the house," she blurted it out, knowing that there was no way to cushion the surprise.

"You're moving?" Sam demanded in surprised tones. It was unexpected of course. They all knew that Molly Gallagher was a mainstay in this town. She'd been there for so long, everyone knew her. "Where to?"

"Well," Molly sighed, "as I wrote to Max, my youngest daughter and her family moved back east this past winter. That means all of my family is more than a few states away. And while I don't mind traveling to see them, I am getting on in years and I really don't like to fly all that well." There was a muffled snort from Dean who agreed readily with her on the flying part, though he didn't elaborate on his own fears. "I've also had some interest about selling the store."

"You didn't mention that," Max accused with a smile. Since Molly had mentioned the move before, it seemed an easier blow to take for the youngest Winchester. But then, she'd already decided that with as much traveling that they did, it would be just as easy to visit Molly wherever she settled down, as it was to visit her here.

"Well, after I talked to the kids that are working for me now," Molly explained, "they went home and told their parents." She glanced at John with a lopsided grin. "You know how gossip spreads?" She got an answering smirk in reply. "Things got started and a group of locals wants to buy the grocery store from me. Sort of turn it into a co-op."

"That might not be such a bad thing," John acknowledged. Molly's nod showed her agreement with the assessment.

"So what I was thinking," Molly continued, "was that it would be nice to have some strong young men to help me pack things and get them shipped off."

"You sound like you already have a place to go to," it was Max's turn to sound surprised, for though she knew about Molly's plans, she just didn't know how far they had progressed.

"I do," the older woman confirmed. "I was trying to settle on a place which was fairly central to my family. That way I could be close to them all and wouldn't have to travel too much father from one to another. And be somewhere close to them so they might be inclined to come see me," she added wryly. "And I got to talking with an old friend. She recently lost her husband and was talking about moving into a smaller place. We discussed and debated and finally decided on Arlington Heights, Illinois. We won't exactly be neighbors, but close enough to visit each other," she ended her explanation with a note of finality, looking to see the various reactions.

"It sounds like everything is taken care of," John nodded thoughtfully. Either way, he wasn't concerned where Molly lived, just as long as she was happy. It wasn't his place to judge her actions. "But are you sure that your kids wouldn't be in a better spot, or rather wouldn't they like the chance to say goodbye to their childhood home?" He asked the question seriously, knowing the weight his query would hold with Dean. Of the two boys, he was the only one that really could say he had had a childhood home. One that had been destroyed by something beyond imagining.

Molly was nodding. "I did tell the children, unfortunately none of them can make it until summer and then only for two weeks. Jeannie just started her job," she explained, referring to the daughter that had just moved. "She's not even sure she'll get time off yet."

"But what about this driving course you want Max to stay for?" Sam interjected. He was having trouble connecting the two issues in his mind as they were obviously linked in Molly's. "Won't it only take a few weeks to pack up?"

Molly's chuckle lightened the serious moment. "Only if I was as young as you Samuel," she teased. "There are a lot of things to go through," she muttered. "I'll be moving from a four bedroom house into a two bedroom apartment," she explained.

"And as for the driving course, I just thought it would be something Max would enjoy. Plus it would give her the chance to visit with Justine more." There was a long pause as each took in the conversation and their own thoughts on it. Finally John spoke up.

"I'll think about it," he deferred, "if Max is interested in it."

"I passed!" Max shouted excitedly as she raced into Molly's home. As she'd expected, three male Winchester head's shot up and her voice was enough to bring Molly from the front bedroom. She waved the certificate stating that she had completed the driver's education course with top marks, in the air. With a grin Dean jumped up from where he'd been taping up a packed box to look over her paper.

"All right Maxie," he turned to give her a hug. "Nice going."

John and Sam followed after and gave her their own hugs while Molly leaned against the entryway and took it all in. Once the males had finally let her loose, Max stuck the paper between her teeth and began to pull off her sweater, while ambling over to the older lady.

"You're not a dog Max," Molly chided, amused at the girls antics. She pulled the paper loose and looked it over as well. "Very good dear," she said simply, and then glanced up at the others. "Well, I'd say a congratulation dinner is in order."

But Max was already shaking her head. "How about we wait until I actually get a license," she offered impishly. She turned to John. "Mr. Larson said that we can go up and take the test anytime. But all the kids are probably gonna go up on Saturday," she mentioned, meaning Great Falls, where the licensing test was issued. "I figured if I could go up Friday, then I'd beat the rush." She turned back to Molly. "And then I'd also be here to help out with the garage sale Saturday."

"That works for me," John decided easily enough. Truthfully, it had been a wonderful respite for the past two months. Life had continued much the same as when they'd lived here before. The only differences were that they were staying with Molly and the kids weren't in school. Because Max's driving classes had only been three times a week in the afternoons (Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday), they were able to go on a few hunting trips, as long as they had her back by Tuesday afternoon. She had even driven a few times, with Dean and John taking turns instructing her. But as her certificate attested, she hadn't really needed their advice, since driving just seemed to come naturally to her.

Max never bothered to tell them that she'd learned to drive Jeep's and Humvee's at the tender age of eight. All thanks to her screwy Manticore upbringing. The only thing she'd really needed to do was update herself on driving and pedestrian laws. And it was smooth sailing from there.

"You're assuming you'll pass on your first try," Sam pointed out, amused. Honestly, he didn't doubt that Max would pass, but he had to tease her a little bit.

"Yeah Sammy," Dean jumped in mercilessly, "we all know that you passed on your first try. So if you could do it, we know it'll be a cakewalk for Max."

"You're just jealous Dean," Sam chuckled. "Why did you fail the first time? Couldn't keep your mind off all those girls you were going to impress with your license?"

"At least I had girls to impress Sam," Dean mocked him right back.

"Oh cut it out you two," John got involved before it could become another episode of name calling and rolling around on the floor. Too many of the boxes held breakable items. He shared a glance with Molly before the other woman disappeared back to the room she'd come from, all of them hearing her peals of laughter.

"So, we all ready to head out to Bobby's?" John asked once more. He got tired assents for the most part from the kids. The Impala was loaded up with their gear. He, Molly and Max had just returned from taking all the items of Molly's that didn't sell at the yard sale over the weekend, up to the Goodwill store in Great Falls. Later on in the afternoon, after Molly had completed the transaction of selling her house, with their former landlord, they would head out for the last time.

Molly had insisted on springing for hotel rooms for her last evening in the state and had invited the Winchester's to join her. Her flight was to leave Tuesday morning and she had invited them to dinner and a movie. Because it had seemed to mean so much to Molly and to Max, John had agreed. He wasn't very happy about Molly spending her money on them, but she assured him that she had wisely kept a part of the grocery co-op business for herself. And with the small influx of people moving into the area, she'd gotten a better than hoped for price on her house.

Once they'd seen her off, they were heading out to his old friends place. Bobby had an old junkyard, full of broken down and beat up vehicles. Most of them ran, after a certain fashion and John had a few reasons for going. First off, he'd noticed that in all their time teaching Max how to drive, she hadn't had much chance to drive a manual. Sammy hadn't either and he was of the old school mind set that this was a necessary evil. True, most vehicles they ended up driving were automatics, but on the odd chance, it was a good skill to have. Secondly, Bobby had some books that he wanted to look at. And lastly, things were starting to get crowded in the Impala. Dean was becoming proprietary over the Impala now that both Sam and Max had their licenses.

John didn't mind that. Dean took such good care of the car that John knew he was leaving it in good hands. And he wouldn't mind something else to drive. If he was lucky, he'd be able to talk Bobby into letting him pick something out, repairing at his own time and cost.

The day moved on and once Molly had returned, Dean and Sam politely picked up her luggage while the woman said her last farewell's to the house she'd known for the majority of her adult life.

It was a short farewell. There was some disagreement over who would sit in the front seat and the kids finally won their own way by simply crawling into the backseat to let Molly have the front. The trip up to the city was anything but silent as the kids reminisced with Molly over the surprise going away party the community had thrown for her the previous evening. And John did not let on that he knew the kids were up to something. He'd overheard them talking with Molly, though he didn't know what about. All he knew was that Molly was supposed to distract him tonight so that they could accomplish whatever it was they had in mind.

Little did John know that they'd already finished most of their surprise, since Molly had suggested to them that they have their portraits done, since John seemed to have so few pictures of the boys, all of which he kept locked away from sight as if they were more precious than gold. In their own way, they were. And none at all of Max. They'd talked it over and decided to go ahead with it, but it didn't make much sense for them to pay a portrait studio a huge fee for tons of pictures that they wouldn't be sending to anyone.

Instead, they'd used the digital camera that Molly had received from her grandchildren to take some nice pictures. Now the only thing left was to get them printed out. And that's where Molly came in. She was already insisting to John that she had to stop for a few necessities for her plane ride. John was amenable.

As soon as the kids got in the store, they nodded to Molly who grabbed John by the arm and dragged him over to the carts. She pulled one loose and set it before him. He gave her an unbelieving stare and then sighed heavily before pushing the cart after her. She headed for the health and beauty section, not even bothering to glance behind her. John did and glared at all three of his children, doubled over in silent laughter. He shook his head and continued on, hoping to get this over and done with quickly.

Once Molly and John had turned a corner, Dean grabbed each of his siblings by an arm and nudged them in a different direction. The trio hurried off to the photography booth set up in the one hour development center. After a quick read through of the instructions listed on the booth, Sammy got started on transferring the pictures that Molly had taken of them. After some discussion and tampering, they finally had the result they wanted. They took it over to the counter and Dean paid for it while Sam and Max admired what a good job Sam had done on tweaking a few things. They were back to Molly and John in twenty minutes.

John knew that the kids had taken off, but he figured since they were in a crowded shopping store and they were together, they should be all right. Plus the kids had their cell phone and he had his. Molly was deliberating over some hand lotions, since she swore up and down that her hands got severely chapped when she flew. He sensed the kids, more from their low laughter and turned to see them sauntering up the aisle towards them. The way Dean was holding something, already bagged, told John that they indeed had a surprise in store for him.

"So have you got you're little surprise all figured out?" he demanded. Sam and Dean looked slightly surprised that he was onto them, though they should have known better by experience. Max just nodded happily.

"Yup!" she announced grandly, not seeing any reason to keep hidden the fact that they were up to something. "It's all taken care of."

"It's not dangerous, is it?" John questioned with good humor. "It's not gonna turn my hair blue or something, is it? And get that nasty little thought out of your head right now Dean!"

The kids ignored his query, as Max turned to the boys, excitement shining in her eyes. "Ooh, hair dye! I want to dye my hair!"

"Not blue," Sam shook his head. "That would be a little too freaky." Max gave him a small shove and Sam retaliated with a poke in her shoulder.

"Of course not dumb ass," she snorted. "We're all ready freaky enough without announcing it to the world."

"You could go redhead," Dean suggested with a chuckle. "Or blonde. I know from experience that they really do have more fun."

"I don't think that last bimbo you picked up at that bar is really a good role model for Max," Sam smirked. He flinched when Dean gave him a shove.

"You're just jealous Sammy," Dean taunted as in unison the kids began to head over to where the hair products were kept. "But don't worry, one of these days we'll find you a nice girl to…"

"To do what Dean?" Max's voice piped up, filled with insatiable curiosity. "What did you guys do? You were out all night? And you know, something tells me she wasn't a natural blonde. Was she Dean?"

John nearly choked on his own laughter, wondering how his ladies man of a son would answer that question. But if Dean ever did respond, he didn't hear since they were further away now. He'd have to make sure that he spoke with Dean later about what was appropriate for the younger ears, though he had a sneaking suspicion that Dean was a little more circumspect with Max than he was with Sam. He turned to find Molly grinning at him.

"Thos kids are gonna be the death of me," he joked. She nodded and deposited the lotion she'd chosen into the cart and led the way for more of this torture called shopping.

"Bobby!" John called as he climbed out the Impala, stretching his back and arms slightly. They'd driven almost non-stop from Montana to get there. "You here?"

Before an answer came from the house or the junk yard, he was met by a careening ball of fluff that had decided to attack his legs. John realized almost immediately that Bobby had finally decided to get another dog to replace the one that he'd lost on a hunt a year or so ago. And while he wasn't the type to be cruel to animals, he was about ready to stomp on the pup to get it to leave his boots alone.

The Winchester clan might not worry too much about fashionable clothing, but they all agreed that boots were sacred. When you did what they did, you learned to take care of your feet and your back. And that meant that there was no way that John was going to let this pup ruin his two hundred dollar pair of boots, even if he had run them on a fake credit card.

Just as he nudged the overeager pup away, he heard the screen door creak open and slam shut.

Bobby stood on the porch, watching impassively as his new dog tore at John's leg.

"Call your damn dog off!" John ordered. He swore he could see a hint of a grin on the other man's face. "Damn it Bobby! You can't still be pissed?"

"Didn't say I was," Bobby finally called back. "The only problem I have is that that damn pup won't listen to a thing I say."

By this time, the kids had woken up and glad to see that they were at Bobby's place finally, were climbing out of the car. The pup, distracted by the noise of three car doors opening, let loose of John and started barking excitedly as it ran to investigate the other newcomers.

"Rumsfeld! Get down!" Bobby yelled as he started off the porch. John frowned at him. Sure, he'd try and keep the dog off the kids, but not him. But just as Bobby had said, the puppy wasn't listening. Currently it was darting between Sam's legs as the gangly youth stepped high to avoid the little animal. Max and Dean were chuckling over the sight until the dog discovered that some heavenly smell seemed to be emanating from Dean's leather boots. A smell attracting him straight to the other male and then it was Dean's turn to try and avoid the spirited animal.

"Rummy, I said get down!" Bobby grimaced, knowing that there'd be hell to pay if Dean's boots were ruined. Dean kept trying to push the dog away with one foot, while keeping his balance and not hurting the animal.

"Get the hell off me mutt," Dean growled.

Bobby shook his head. "Hang on; I'll go get some food. It's the only way to distract him."

But before he could retreat back to the house, Max decided to take matters into her own hand. She stepped forward and, seemingly uncaring of the puppy's snapping jaws, caught the tiny Rumsfeld's muzzle in her hand. She forced the puppy back and into sitting position, and then pulled his jaw up to look her square in the face.

"Rumsfeld, down!" she thundered. She let go and the puppy whimpered, cowering before her feet. The males exchanged wondering glances with one another.

Max knew they were surprised but didn't worry. She'd put enough authority into her voice that the dog knew she meant business. The only thing that made her wonder about it was noticing the new scent coming off the dog. Her mind seemed able to process it, telling her instincts that she'd cowed the puppy. There was fear, respect and something else coming from the dog. She took a second to try and inhale other scents around her.

She knew that she had a heightened sense of smell, thanks to the wonderful geneticists at Manticore. But she hadn't realized before now that she could actually categorize the distinct pheromones given off from odors. All around her she could smell anger and puzzlement. She turned her head slightly and took a quick sniff at herself. Underneath the soft scent of the deodorant she wore, and the clean sharp scents of her laundry detergent and shampoo, she could smell something she could only classify as dominance.

And if the way the men were looking at her was any indication, they sensed it too. But as her mind rapidly worked, she realized that they were reacting to the scents on a primitive level. They probably weren't categorizing it like she was, just accepting what the most primal indicator of their brains were telling them. Namely, step lightly around Max right now.

Concerned that they would become concerned over her behavior and start to ask questions that she wouldn't be able to answer, Max tried consciously to pull back that dominance. The scent faded slightly and she was pleased to discover that a new scent had taken its place. It was calming to her and apparently the pup, realizing that it was because she was forcing herself to calm down.

Obviously the puppy noticed it as well, since he began to whine and wriggle forward, lying on all four paws, and his body low to the ground. Max dropped down to her knees and ruffled the dog's ears. "Ooh, who's a good boy?" she crooned. The puppy yipped excitedly and began to rain sloppy puppy kisses on her throat and cheeks. She giggled and hugged him close to her.

"I'll be damned," Bobby whistled. "I was about ready to give up on that dog ever listening to anything."

"He just needs to know who's boss," Max replied. She finally pushed Rumsfeld's nose away from her. The puppy further surprised them by obeying the simple gesture and ceasing his ecstatic greetings. He lay on Max's feet after the girl stood.

"Maybe you'll train him up a little for me," Bobby grinned. "If you're gonna be stayin' a while."

Max pretended to think it over. Honestly, she had no clue how to go about actually training a dog. They'd never worked with the dogs that the guards and trainers had back at Manticore. All she could think of was just what was instinctual.

But maybe that was what the dog needed, just someone that he'd listen to, to show him the way things were done. He seemed like a bright, intelligent animal. Just high strung in a puppyish way. She shrugged once. "I can try, I guess."

"Better than nothing," Bobby shrugged as well and then pulled his arms up in a welcoming gesture. "Well, let me see y'all." The kids exchanged grins with one another while they straightened up for inspection.

It wasn't exactly like how John pulled inspection on them. Bobby just wanted to take in their faces and see what changes had been wrought since the last time they'd visited. Dean was much the same as he'd been before, but he was a man now and Bobby knew that any changes wouldn't be of the physical maturation type for quite a while.

Sam on the other hand, must have shot up at least a good six inches. Bobby was surprised to see that the boy, no darn it, the kid was eighteen now, had to start thinking of him as a man as well. Well, Bobby was surprised to see that Sam was taller than he by a good bit. Somehow, the young man had managed to hide it while he was sitting and by slouching a little when he stood. Bobby remembered vaguely, that twilight time of leaving the last vestiges of puberty behind. He was confident that Sam would learn to be less self-conscious of his height.

Lastly, he turned to Max. Although he'd known the family for almost all of the boy's lives, he'd only met her a scant few times. But in that first meeting, he'd seen quickly how and why she'd had the Winchester males wrapped around her pinky. And it didn't take long before her sassy little mouth had him in the same tight spot John was in.

"Well I'll be darned," he chuckled, reaching out to play with a strand of her newly dyed hair. He glanced back at John. "She kind of reminds me of Charlene. Remember her?"

John shrugged. Honestly he didn't remember who Bobby was speaking of, but it didn't matter. The wide grin on his friend's face was enough to tell them all that Charlene had been a good thing in his life. He turned back to Max.

"Although I think you're a shade or two darker," Bobby mused. "Kind of like the sky when the sun goes down."

"Do you like it?" Max asked sounding kind of breathless, and surprisingly, girly. Bobby pulled her forward in a quick one-armed hug.

"I do sweetheart," he nodded. He let her loose and it was almost a signal for things to move again.

"You know, I'd swear that she was born a redhead and just hiding it from us all this time," Dean teased as he retrieved the car keys to open the trunk.

"Yeah, 'cause she sure has got the temper to match it," Sam chimed in, teasing his sister good-naturedly. Max just arched an eyebrow in their direction.

"Well, if I'm so temperamental, then you can just carry in my bags for me," she stated haughtily.

"Oh no you don't miss high and mighty," Dean grunted as he threw packs out of the trunk and onto the ground. He shoved hers towards her with his foot and gestured to it. Max shifted, then glanced down at the puppy that had fallen asleep. Dean followed her glance and snorted. Max grinned at him, then bent over to pick up the husky puppy. Rumsfeld yelped once at the sudden position change, licked her jaw once more and then cuddled into her arms.

"I've already got my hands full," she taunted, then turned to follow after John and Bobby, into the house. Dean shook his head and then began loading up Sammy's arms.

Days flew by as the family visited with Bobby. He was certainly amenable enough to letting Max and Sam practice on the old junkers that he had up and running. And he surely didn't mind John working a deal on an old Chevy truck that he'd just gotten a hold of. And he didn't care if John glanced through every book he had in the house. Hell, even the tiniest bit of knowledge tucked away in your head could turn the tides in a dangerous situation.

What bothered him was Sam. At first, the boy had talked just as much as the rest of his family, filling Bobby in on the hunts they'd gone on. And the time they spent in Montana and other parts of the country. But gradually, if he wasn't practicing on a stick shift, like his father insisted, he was off by himself. Most of the time it seemed like he was working on schoolwork, or reading. Occasionally, Bobby caught him going through a large envelope that would mysteriously disappear anytime a family member was in the vicinity.

It was almost the last straw though when for the third day in a row, John, Dean and Max were hunkered over John's new tinker toy and Sam was up on the porch reading his heart out. He'd slipped away from where he'd been working on another vehicle and under the guise of making lemonade, dragged Sam into the kitchen for a talk.

"So you're daddy said that you're schoolwork is going real well," he began as he pulled lemonade mix from his cupboard.

Sam shrugged. "Well enough I suppose," he replied.

"He said something about you and Max being able to take your GED's right away," Bobby continued. He pretended not to notice the flash of irritation on the younger man's face.

"Max can," Sam finally offered, staring out the window. "I'll be taking my end of year diploma stuff in another few months or so."

"You worried you might fail?" Bobby pressed. But Sam quickly shook his head. "So what's got your panties in a bunch then?"

A slow smile crept over Sam's face, reacting to Bobby's bluntness. He shrugged again. "Nothing really."

Bobby regarded Sammy intently. All the time that he knew this family, he knew sure as spit that Sam was just a little bit different. There wasn't the same drive in him that there was in John and Dean and hell, even Max on occasion. He wondered if that might be the problem right there and decided to switch tactics.

"So you had a good visit back in Montana, I gathered," he continued in the lemonade making process, deliberately not looking at the youth, giving him time to collect himself.

"It was nice," Sam agreed mildly, moving to get some glasses down from the cupboard. "We weren't always rushing off somewhere new. Well, sometimes." He amended. "But we always got back to the same place."

"And I see all that home cooking didn't go to waste either," Bobby chuckled. He'd heard the kids comparing his own meager offerings to the fare that the almost sainted Molly Gallagher offered. He wasn't offended. He knew his own shortcomings in the kitchen.

"Yeah," Sam agreed quietly. Suddenly, the need to tell someone how he felt, someone who wasn't immediate family, was overwhelming him. "It just kind of reminded me that there's more to life than hunting and Dad's rules."

Bobby felt satisfaction the moment Sam opened up to him. "There is," he opted to say as mildly as he could. "And there's nothing wrong with wanting that. Is that what you want?" He chanced a glance at Sam and could see the apprehension on the middle child's face. He looked straight at him. "Whatever you tell me will be in confidence. I ain't gonna go running to your daddy just because you said something that he might not like."

Sam gauged the honestly in that statement and apparently found enough that he nodded. "When we were at Molly's, sometimes it was easy to pretend that we were just like everybody else. We could visit our friends. We had things that we could actually talk to other people about. Do you know how hard it is to try and tell someone about your trip to Utah when all you can safely tell them is that you camped out a lot?"

"First rule of hunting," Bobby chuckled. "Don't tell."

Sam shook his head. "Nah, first rule of hunting is 'don't die'," he announced it as if by rote. Bobby cocked his head to the side. Those words sounded vaguely familiar to him and he was sure they hadn't been uttered to him by John Winchester. But when Sam continued, he put it in the back of his mind.

"Second rule is 'if you know you're going to die, try and take as many enemies out with you when you go," Sam recited. "And third rule is 'don't tell a soul because you can't help people when you're locked up in the nut hatch, unless of course the nut hatch is haunted'." He ended his tirade with a bit of a grin.

"Yeah that sounds like your old man," Bobby grinned as well. He finished stirring the lemonade mix into the water in the old plastic pitcher and pulled the wooden spoon out. "All I can say about it though Sam, is that you should just try and appreciate the normal times when they come. They kind of balance out the crazy ass, something trying to kill you times."

Sam let out a short bark of laughter and ran his fingers through hair that was starting to get a tad shaggy. Before the conversation could continue though, he heard a shout from his brother and moved to help Bobby with the anticipated lemonade. Maybe they could talk more another day.

"I don't see why I have to drive this thing," Max complained as the Corolla lurched slightly as she put it into second gear. She was easily accelerating on the road, heading away from Bobby's house.

"Because you've graduated into the Dean Winchester road rules class," her older brother quipped from the passenger's seat. "Now that Dad has deemed you fit for mileage on the highway, we go on the highway."

"You're a dork," Max snorted, not even bothering to take her eyes off the road as she taunted her brother. "I just meant that I can drive a stick shift just fine. Better than fine actually," she pointed out, a little heatedly. "So I didn't really need my big brother to tag along while I picked up groceries and I could have taken the Impala."

"First off, nuh uh," Dean grunted. "Hands off my baby." Max rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe that her brother was one of those macho types that referred to every car as she and believed that the non-sentient vehicle was mystically able to comply with Dean's wishes in regards to driving. "Second of all, Dad wants you to be able to drive anything, and since vehicles are different, you need to-!"

"I know I know," Max ranted. "I need to get a feel for the different driving systems. How sometimes brakes are lighter in one vehicle than another. How sometimes the gas pedal only needs a light touch instead of lead foot. Blah blah woof woof!" she snorted.

Dean grinned as she finished her tirade, especially since Rumsfeld popped his head up in the back seat, inquiring with huge eyes at the source of the dog-like words.

"And you call me a dork?" Dean teased affectionately. Max just shook her head and concentrated on driving. As she'd thought, Dean didn't make any corrections or offer suggestions on her driving. Especially since they hit town and he was on hottie lookout.

Sometimes it really irked her when all of Dean's focus was on other women. Aside from the physical attributes, she couldn't see what had him so interested. She'd asked John about it on a few occasions and he'd muttered something about hormones and genes and was so red in the face that she'd backed off. But when it happened on the rare occasion for Sam, Max had figured that he was right. Something about a pretty girl made guys go strange. Her theory was completely confirmed though when some guys had tried to flirt with her. Of course, her family didn't seem to like it when the shoe was on the other foot and she had had to quickly step in and brush the most persistent guy off before weapons could come into play. Seriously though, the guy had been older than Dean and Max wasn't sure what she thought about that.

She knew she was attractive. Manticore had seen to that along with a myriad of other things. The only drawback that she had found so far to her physical attributes was that it tended to make men treat her like she hadn't brain one in her head and it made some women, younger and pretty, slightly frosty with her. It didn't bother her though. That was completely on them. They could be as petty and as jealous as all get out.

What did bother her was seeing grown men getting slack-jawed and stupid for anything in a skirt. That was just… weird. Not the weirdest thing in her life, but a mystery of sorts, all the same.

Max scanned the row of stores on the main drag, looking for the grocery store that Bobby regularly shopped at. He'd provided them with a list of things he needed and John and Sam had included some snacks that they preferred. But before she found what she was looking for, her attention was caught by something entirely different.

Dean was appreciating what a nice day this was turning out to be. There were lovely young ladies almost everywhere he turned. He didn't mind taking a break from the marathon tune-up that had been happening with the vehicles. And it was a relief to get away from Sam for a little bit. It was kind of freaky the way he was trying to cram so much knowledge in his head before taking his finals. Thinking of that reminded him of Max taking her finals and he turned to ask if she was going to turn into a bookworm like Sammy, but she had suddenly jammed on the brakes.

Dean lurched forward, his hand bracing against the dashboard as he silently cursed, even while being thankful that he'd pushed the seat back as far as it would allow to accommodate his long legs. "What the hell?" he bit out and turned to stare at his sister.

But she wasn't paying any attention to him at all. She had her head turned and was staring at one of the stores. Before he could say anything else, she'd put the car back in gear and rabbitted it into a parking space, just yards from where she'd originally stopped.

"Max?" he demanded as she unbuckled and jumped out of the car. He leaned over to grab the keys out, gave Rumsfeld, still sleeping, a quick glare and exited the car. "What's wrong?" he demanded, chasing after his fifteen year old sister. She'd come to a dead halt outside of a bike shop. "Hello Maxie?" he sing-songed, waving his hand in front of her face. "This isn't the grocery store."

"Isn't it gorgeous?" she demanded breathily. Dean blinked slowly. He had never, not since the first moment he'd met her, seen her act like this. He took a glance in the window and saw displayed there a motorcycle of some type. While he knew cars makes and models, he wasn't so well versed in motorcycles.

:"Yeah it's nice," he shrugged. And it was, tricked out with a flaming paint job, the metal cool and gleaming from the afternoon sun. "Come on."

"Yeah, we'll go in," she replied enthusiastically. Dean stared after her as she darted to the front door. He'd meant that they should head down to the store they'd originally come to patronize. A small curl lifted the corner of his lip as he realized that Max had finally found her obsession. It was only right. Dad had demon hunting, he liked his cars and music and Sam was the bookworm. It was only fitting that Max have something too.

He trailed desultorily after her, catching the steel framed glass door just as it was swinging shut. It was almost like watching a kid in the candy store. Max was turning in a slow circle, taking in everything she could. Admittedly, the smell attracted Dean to. He'd always enjoyed the scent of motor oil, leather and axle grease. It reminded him, if he really thought about it, of time spent with his father. Long ago and far off, he supposed it was one of the scent combinations that he still associated with the better part of his childhood.

"Hey!" a gruff voice called from the back of the store. "You just lookin'?"

Dean glanced back to the origin of the voice and saw the typical Hell's Angels biker standing there, wiping grease from his hands with an extraordinarily clean rag. "Yeah," he called back. "My sister wanted to stop in."

The guy took in Max and shook his head. "Well, holler if you need anything." He stepped back into the rear, obviously not concerned with creating a sales pitch. He seemed to have measured them up as look and seers, instead of hard core buyers. Which Dean knew was the correct assumption.

By then Max had moved in closer to a different set of models than the bikes that were prominently displayed. Although Dean wasn't sure that three constituted much of a display.

"Look Dean," Max gestured at him from where she was kneeling next to a sleek little motorcycle, though it looked huge compared to his scrawny kid sister. "Isn't she gorgeous?!" He didn't bother to fight back a grin at the excitement in her voice.

"Yeah it's nice," he replied stiffly. He checked his watch, knowing that their father wouldn't be expecting them quite yet. But he'd also tan Dean's hide if he left Max to wander around a strange town alone, while he picked up the food. "We need to get going though. The store closes early tonight. Remember?"

"I know," Max nodded, though her eyes were still on the bike. Suddenly she stood and graced him with a brilliant smile. "I just wanna ask something." Before he could consent she hurried to the opening to the back.

"Hey mister!" he heard her call. Not bothering to follow after her, Dean checked out the monstrosity that she was drooling over. A Kawasaki Ninja. He had to admit that it was a sleek looking little machine. Not overly garish like the other bikes. It was compact, all black, had a small windshield. In all, it wasn't bad looking. But in his heart, nothing compared to his Impala.

He finally tore himself away and wandered towards the back, where he heard Max conversing with the big guy from before. When he heard the price of that little beauty, new it seemed, he let out a low whistle. There was no way in hell their dad would go for that.

After another few minutes of conversation with the store owner, Dean was able to pull Max away with another reminder that they had to get to the store. Finding out from the guy that the store wasn't far away, they decided they could walk. Dean tried to ignore how Max was absently wandering down the street, looking over the pamphlets in her hands that she'd picked up.

"Oh man, this thing gets excellent gas mileage," she exclaimed, shoving the paper under Dean's nose.

"Yeah that's great sis," Dean snorted, pushing her wrist away. "Did you remember Bobby's list?"

Max stopped suddenly, her eyes frozen and then she shook her head. "No, it's still in the car." And then she started walking again. She looked over her shoulder at him. "What?"

"Ah, we need to go get the list," he pointed out, a little less than patient.

"No we don't," Max denied. "I remember what was on there." She continued on to the store and Dean shook his head. She was looking over the pictures again, a dreamy, goofy smile on her face.

"I'm still going to get it," he called after her. She waved one hand in the air, clearly unconcerned.

"Don't forget to crack the window so Rummy gets some fresh air," she called back to him after he'd taken a few steps.

Dean turned, but Max had already entered the store. "Rummy," he snorted out in the most deprecating tone he could muster.

When he caught back up to her a few minutes later, the small cart she had was already loaded with the things that Bobby had asked for. "Well," he sighed, as he checked over the list. "There's one thing to be grateful for."

"What's that?" Max asked as she scanned the shelves for a specific type of salsa.

"You're not one of those girls that takes forever to shop," Dean teased. Glancing once again in the cart, he was amazed to see that Max indeed did remember everything that was on Bobby's list. All that was missing was the milk and the snack items that John and Sam had added.

"What's the point of taking forever?" Max demanded with a laugh. "You decide you want something, go and get it. That's not hard right?"

"Yeah, I suppose," Dean shrugged, trailing after her. A jar of cheesy salsa mix caught his eye and he snagged it from the shelf. "But don't most girls like to look and debate and, oh God… window shop!"

"I'm not most girls Dean," Max pointed out, speaking slowly. "So I guess I wouldn't know."

"No you're right," Dean nodded his head and set the jar he'd snagged in the cart, completely missing the look of sadness that had passed over his sister's features. "And in my books that's a good thing. You know. You're just like one of the guys," he finished, intending his words as a compliment. Unfortunately, that got a reaction he wasn't expecting.

"You are such a jerk!" Max hissed, storming away from him.

Dean stared after her, his mouth slightly agape. "What the hell?" he wondered out loud. He shut his mouth, his teeth snapping together with a slight clicking noise. Letting out a long sigh, he decided that they were probably in for another round of PMS.

"What are you doing?" Sam demanded as he watched Dean scoot yet another inch closer in his chair, to the doorway that led from Bobby's living room to the kitchen. Sam inserted a finger between the pages of the book he was reading, not wanting to lose his spot. They'd just finished dinner and now Bobby, John and Max were clearing up. The boys had offered to help, but Max had informed them that she wanted to talk to John.

"Shh," Dean hissed, waving a hand at his brother.

"No, seriously dude," Sam persisted. "Why are you eavesdropping?"

Dean glanced through the doorway furtively, and then turned to fix his brother with a semi-evil looking smirk. "I think Max is working up the courage to ask Dad for a motorcycle."

Sam took that in, thought it over and then gave an unimpressed snort. As he opened his book once more, he grinned, "yeah, that'll go over with Dad like a lead balloon."

Once they returned to silence, the others voices filtered through clearly once more.

"…excellent mileage and upkeep wouldn't be that bad," Max finished saying. "So what do you think Dad?"

"That's all interesting Max," John replied. The boys could hear the swish of water as someone washed a dish. "Unfortunately, I just can't afford a brand new motorcycle. And it's not a wise idea to use one of the cards for it. Big purchases like that tip off the credit card companies."

"I know that," Max assured him quickly.

"Besides," John continued, plates clacking together as he continued his task, "you've never driven a motorcycle. What makes you think you could handle one?"

"I don't know," Max admitted freely. "I just do."

"You know," Bobby interrupted, "I've got an old Suzuki that she could practice on." There was a slight pause. "Of course, I wouldn't sell it to ya kiddo. The damn thing keeps shorting out and nothing I've tried has fixed it. It's good enough to run for a little while, but then you got to rewire it."

"So it'd be fine for short hops around the yard," John clarified. "Is that what you're saying?"

"Pretty much," Bobby chuckled. "I suppose I could teach her how."

"That's great Bobby," Max exclaimed. "Thank you." There was another pause. "But what about the Ninja?"

"What about it?" John grumbled. It was clear to the boys that their father had pretty much thought the matter closed.

"I know you can't afford it," Max began, almost hesitantly. "But what if I raised the money for it?"

"That's a lot of money to try and hustle," Bobby commented. "It would take you a while."

"Plus the fact that you'd need to get protective gear, insurance, a full course from Bobby on maintenance and an operating license," John threw in. "That's time and money there Max."

"But if I did all that, you'd let me," Max pressed, trying to get John to commit. Finally he seemed to give in.

"Yes Max," he sighed, "if you do everything I told you and can raise the money, then you can get the Ninja."

"Thank you Daddy!" her squeal echoed allover the house. Dean's jaw had dropped. He had worked and slaved over the Impala for most of his life before his father finally entrusted it to him and here Max was getting a brand new frigging motorcycle! He turned to glare at his brother, who despite acting unconcerned before was displaying the same slack-jawed manner as his older brother.

"Did you hear that?" Dean grunted. Sam nodded slowly.

"Max honey," John chuckled. "Do me a favor. Either quit hugging me or dry that damn plate! It's dripping water down my back!"

"Oh sorry," Max laughed. John and Bobby joined in. The conversation continued, with Bobby telling Max that he had some manuals for a few different brands of motorcycles that she could look over to acquaint herself with the set up of her chosen vehicle. Their task was finished quickly and both boys noticed that Max disappeared into the study to find the books that Bobby had mentioned.

"We need to talk to Dad," Dean whispered harshly. Sam nodded and moved to set his book away, when the voices filtered out to them again.

"She's a tenacious little thing," Bobby commented softly and both Sam and Dean had to strain to hear.

"That she is," John agreed. They heard something clink and the cupboard door was slammed shut. They heard coffee being poured and knew the older men were settling in for an evening chat in the kitchen.

"I thought sure as hell you were gonna say no to that bike," Bobby laughed.

"And if I'd said no outright then there would have been no end to the snit she'd work herself into," John offered matter of factly. "And if there's one thing that scares the hell outta me, it's a pissed off Max."

The boys couldn't help but smirking over that. It was a useful little tidbit to keep in mind.

"So what are you going to say to her when she's ready for that bike?" Booby wondered.

"She won't get it," John told him calmly. Bobby must have looked wonderingly since John continued explaining after a moment. "Either she'll get over this fad, or she'll never make that much money. In fact, I can just about guarantee that she'll never be able to sock away that much."

"How so?"

"Max is a good girl," John grunted. "We'll just have a run of bad luck and need to 'borrow' from her once in a while. She'll put her family first."

"You are one sneaky son of a gun," Bobby said, his voice half awe, half disgust. "You know that, right?"

Dean and Sam glanced at one another. Bobby was definitely right about that.

They were returning again. It had been nine weeks since they'd left Bobby's, full of knowledge of sorts. But now, giving in to Sammy's incessant need to make sure that he knew as much possible before taking his exams, John had given into the kids urging to return to their old friend's home. Bobby hadn't minded their company again so soon, he promised John. And Max was excited about taking another go around with the motorcycle he'd let her borrow.

As expected, she'd caught on fast to riding, handling the machine with ease and grace. And she'd never complained when, as predicted, the machine broke down. She looked on each opportunity as a chance to advance in the chain of commands that John had set up regarding her ownership of, as she now put it, her baby, the black Ninja 650.

They pulled up to the old house and once again Bobby was waiting for them. This time however, Rumsfeld was sitting patiently at his side, waiting for a command before he went out to greet his old friends. Since it hadn't been so long since their last visit, they all just clambered out of the Impala and right up to the house.

Bobby had cool drinks ready for everyone and as they settled in, they began another, shorter round of guess what we killed this time. And at last, Dean found an appreciative audience for the story he was dying to tell about Sammy at the carnival that Max had dragged them to. Or as Dean liked to call it, the adventure of Sammy's first kiss. The carnival was only in town over a weekend and Max had never been to one. So while she was experiencing the sights and sounds, Sam was literally shaking in his boots every time a clown walked by. Turned out poor Sam was terrified of them and he took off running when a whole passel of them came down the fairway. Only to run right into the arms of the bearded woman, who'd planted a big old smooch on an embarrassed Sammy. Dean was near to laughing himself right out of his chair when he finished telling it and Bobby wasn't far behind.

Sam was squirming in his seat, knowing that there were no threats on earth that would shut his brother up about it. At least Max and John were carefully avoiding his face. He really didn't need to see the actual pity that was sure was in their eyes.

"Don't mind me," he huffed out as he stood up. "I'm gonna go study."

"I'm sorry Sammy," Bobby called between laughs. "It's just…"

"It's Sam. Yeah, whatever," Sam shrugged, striving for a negligent approach and not quite pulling it off. His attitude at least accomplished one thing, it settled Dean down. He would have moved to go after Sammy and try and continue teasing him out of his snit, but his father made motions for him to just let it go. So he did and they spent the rest of the evening visiting with Bobby before they all retired.

The next morning, as they had long ago grown used to, Max was up and going long before any others were. Her saving grace from being teased over it was that she always had coffee ready for everyone else. And if she was in an adventurous mood, some type of breakfast. No one complained if it was something made from a box, since she had better luck with that. But she could also turn out some darn tasty pancakes.

So this morning, though there was coffee, there was no breakfast and no sign of Max. No one cared until they were all assembled for breakfast and Max still hadn't shown up. A quick check of the spare bedroom that she commandeered showed the bed made and no one in sight. Bobby checked outside, but Rumsfeld was up on his perch on the truck. If Max was around, the dog would have been at her side like glue. So that must have meant that she was off practicing her driving on the old bike Bobby kept. Yet it was there in the yard as well.

When instructed to, Dean and Sam had checked their bags and the Impala, and discovered that Max had taken their cell phone with her. So John called her, heatedly demanding to know where she was. It was a short conversation before he hung up the phone and turned to face the boys.

"She's in town, she walked, and she'll be back soon," he intoned, his face dark.

"Why the hell did she walk into town so early in the morning?" Dean demanded, perturbed.

"Probably wanted to go moon over her baby," Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes. He took a platter of food from Bobby and brought it to the table.

"Yeah, but if she walked, she left a while ago," Dean pointed out. "Not really smart. Who knows who could have been on the road?"

"You're sister is smart enough to get out of the way of vehicles," John sighed. "And she knows better than to hitchhike."

"So what do you want to do?" Bobby asked, glancing at the other three males.

"I say we eat," Sam gestured to the food already prepared.

"Yeah," John concurred. "She's safe. She has the phone to call us if there's any trouble. After we eat, we can run in and pick her up." That decided, they sat down to enjoy the meal.

But their plans were for naught.

Almost as soon as they were done eating and about to clear the mess away, they heard a distinct rumble of an unfamiliar vehicle pulling into Bobby's lot. They heard Rumsfeld bark a welcoming yip and all four of them rushed to the window.

It was easy to see exactly who had come in, since the dog only barked that way with Max. But they certainly hadn't expected her to be coming on the very machine that she'd coveted these past weeks.

"What the hell did she do?" John breathed out, his eyes betraying a worried panic.

Before he could stop his boys, they'd rushed out to greet their sister. He exchanged a look with Bobby and the older men followed suit.

"Isn't it great?" Max called to them as she set the kickstand down and settled the bike so it wouldn't tip over. She'd already pulled up the visor on the requisite helmet. She leaned forward so that she could sling her leg off of the bike and stood so that she could remove the helmet and gloves. She pushed the gloves into the helmet, set it on the seat and then unzipped her leather jacket. Sam and Dean were there then and looking over the bike. Undisguised pride and amazement shone in their eyes.

"How the hell did you get this?" Dean asked with curiosity.

"I bought it dumb ass," Max giggled. She ran her hand over the new leather seat, and then turned to her approaching father. "And I got the gear when I got it. And I purchased a year's worth of insurance, over the Internet." She turned back to her brothers. "That's what took me so long this morning. I had to wire the money order to the main office and wait for confirmation that they got it before they issued the card."

"You did all that this morning?" Bobby was stunned. It was only shortly before ten o'clock.

"Well, I did persuade the bike shop owner to open early," she smiled brilliantly. "But the prospect of a total payment, all cash, did brighten his naturally un-sunny nature."

"You paid cash for everything?" John demanded at last. Max nodded happily. "Well then you should have no problem taking this stuff back."

As Max stared at John, trying to process his words, the grin slowly faded from her face. "What?"

"You heard me," he spoke clearly, his face stony. "Take this stuff back."

"But why," her voice had dropped to a whisper as her brows furrowed together. "You said…"

"No," John spat out. "Take this damn bike back. You're not having it!"

The order finally served to pull Max out of her stunned stupor. "No. I won't," she spoke softly, but her face held a promise of danger. "You said that if I did everything you asked then I could have it. I did everything. Even down to the damn leather gloves that I sure as hell don't need. The friggin' insurance. I paid for the bike. It's mine! You said so!"

"I don't give a damn what I said!" John thundered back. Neither of them noticed that Bobby had latched onto Sam and Dean's arms and was slowly drawing them away. While the boys had seen arguments very rarely take place between their father and sister, this was new to Bobby. But not one of them would have said that this was a regular argument. This was Mount St. Helen's about to erupt.

"Excuse me!" Max screeched. "Why the hell did you say I could have it if you didn't mean it?"

"Don't take that tone with me!" John yelled right back.

"I'll take any tone I fucking well please," Max's voice had gone cold and her eyes were glittering. Her stance spelled trouble, just as John's did. He'd advanced on her and they were almost toe to toe.

"Take the bike back Max," he warned again. Max just stared up at her father, her arms crossed, her face set mulishly. "Or I'll take it back for you."

"You touch it and I'll have you arrested," she threatened so quietly that it only betrayed the seriousness of her words. John pulled back a tiny bit, obviously unused to this grave child. There was no doubt in his mind that she'd do exactly that.

"You would really do that to me?" he questioned, his voice now as soft as hers had been. "Do that to your own family?"

"I protect what's mine," she warned. "And that bike is mine." That threat settled in, she leaned back, her straight stance shifting slightly as one hip jutted out. "And why the hell are you so pissed off about this?"

"Because you shouldn't be spending you're money on stuff like that," John snarled. "And how the hell did you come up with the cash for it? You've been holding out on us?"

"Well duh," Max rolled her eyes. "If you guys hadn't been so busy hustling, you would seen the scams I was working on." That wasn't exactly the truth, but there was no way that Max was going to admit that. True, she had hustled and run a few scams, just like John and Dean. But ever since Sam had slipped about the way they needed and made money, she had been putting her Manticore given talents to use. Using her stealth, she'd become an amazing pick-pocket. She'd learned about breaking and entering, and Dean was always letting her refine her technique. On a few occasions, she put those talents to use with a little B&E with some robbery on the side.

It was true that she was extremely careful. She never stole more than petty amounts in the towns they worked in. Just enough that people would think they'd lost a bill somewhere, or had lost a favored piece of jewelry. It was the bigger towns they passed through that caught Max's attention. Also because that was where the fences were. And Max had found quite the network's there that didn't mind dealing in stolen goods.

And whenever she did win any money, she never bragged on the amount. Or at least toned down the amount she had won. She always kept it fluid, showing them that she had a little here and there. Mainly she chipped in for gas or for food. Once in a while, she bought herself something. Money was used for small presents on the proper occasions. And never once had the Winchester's questioned it. Until now.

"And when have I held out on you?" she demanded. "If you needed more money, all you had to do was ask." With that statement, she dug into her pocket and brought out a roll of money. She held the money out to John and he stared at it dumbly.

"It's not about the damn money," he hissed, pushing her hand away. Max hadn't been expecting that and the money fell from her numb fingertips. It landed in the dirt and while John and Max stared each other down, Dean stepped forward to scoop it up. His eyes widened momentarily and he furtively counted it out.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed, holding up the wad of cash. "There's over fifteen hundred here."

"And with the bike…" Sam added in, trailing off.

"How the hell did you squirrel away thousands of dollars?" Dean demanded, awe once again filling his voice. Max finally glanced away from John and gave her brother an uneasy shrug.

"I just did," she answered quietly. "You guys never asked and any time I offered to pay for stuff, half the time you just blew me off."

The group shifted uneasily. Most of them were waiting to see what John was going to say, John himself included. He didn't know why he was so upset about the bike. Like he said, it wasn't about the money. It wasn't the fact that she'd held his words as a serious deal. It was only when Max pushed that he admitted the truth to himself and the rest of them.

"What's so wrong with me having this bike?" she questioned again. "I did everything I was supposed to."

"You're going to get killed on that thing," he finally blurted out. Surprised understanding dawned on Max's face. But before she could answer, John turned and marched back into the house. She turned to the others and they stared at one another. None of his children had any clue what that was about.

But Bobby, as usual, was a fount of information. "Your daddy didn't tell you about a friend of ours that was killed years ago, did he?"

All three of them shook their heads. Bobby sighed and glanced away, a little niggling pain still showing on his face. "Danny Kearney," he spoke quietly, his voice heavy. "He was too tired to drive, but he did anyways. He started nodding off and drifted into the wrong lane on the highway. Right into the path of an oncoming semi. That rig dragged him for a mile before the driver could get it stopped."

He didn't need to describe the carnage that it caused on their mutual friend. He could see in their faces that they were imagining the devastation already.

"I should go talk to him, show him that I can handle the motorcycle," Max pointed out softly. But Bobby shook his head.

"It's not that he has a problem with the bike," Bobby said. "I mean hell; he had no problem with you riding that old bike of mine around the yard."

"Then what's the problem?" Sam demanded.

"He doesn't want you to have the means to be gone from him," Bobby pointed out equitably. "He doesn't want you to be out of his sphere of influence." He paused for a moment to try and let the kids puzzle through that. "I know there are a lot of things that scare your old man. But the one thing that truly terrifies him, the one thing that paralyzes him, is the thought of one of you kids being hurt or killed."

He left them with that revelation that shouldn't have been so startling, yet was and followed after his old friend. The three kids stood awkwardly together. Finally, Dean handed Max back the money that she'd won. Max took it hesitantly, and stowed it back in her jacket. She looked up, her face serious as she contemplated her brothers.

"Should I take it back?" she questioned them quietly. Both men looked thoughtful for a moment. Sam answered first.

"No," he stated evenly. "You're right. The bike is yours; you did everything Dad told you to do to get it. And like Bobby said, it's not about the bike."

"Just don't shove it in his face though," Dean warned, evidently agreeing with Sam. "I mean, you have it now, you don't have to flaunt it. Give Dad some time to adjust."

Max nodded in relief. This motorcycle was something, the only thing that was well and truly hers in a big way. She was so damn proud of it and the way it made her feel when she rode it was beyond comparison to anything else. Yet despite her earlier threat, she would have given it up, once she had good reason to, for John.

"So when you finally do convince Dad that its okay," Sam interjected on her thoughts, "can I get a ride?"

"Ooh no!" Dean protested. "Me first."

"Why should you be first?" Sam demanded as the trio began moving towards the house.

"Because I was there when she first saw it," Dean pointed out smugly.

"What the hell dude!" Sam shot back. "That has nothing to do with it."

"Hey, first come, first serve," was his older brother's taunt.

"Right! I asked first so I get first ride," Sam pointed out triumphantly.

"Isn't it my decision?" Max asked, chuckling. Both brothers turned to her.

"No!" they decided in unison. They both grinned at the other and Sam casually pushed his brother's shoulder.

"Jerk!"

Dean glanced down at the shoulder that his brother had just touched. With a little harder shove, he retaliated. "Bitch!"

With ease Max dodged out of the way of their sudden brawl. Giggling, she ended up beside Bobby's truck, where Rumsfeld was eagerly waiting to greet her. She let him rain licks and puppy kisses over her face as she desultorily scratched behind his ear. She looked at the dog and grinned as a sudden idea popped into her head.

"Hey!" she yelled, capturing her brother's attention. "I know how to settle this fairly! Rumsfeld gets the first ride!" And with that she dashed into the house.

Dean and Sam stared after her, and then glanced at each other. With unspoken consent, they released each other and scrambled up to chase after their mischievous little sister. Though they didn't mean it to, the ensuing tickle fight had one great side effect. It went a long way in restoring their father to a better frame of mind.


	20. Inside Lies Memory

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: R for language and content matter pertaining to sex.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time.

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

**A/N:** This was a really difficult chapter for me to write. It was very hard to get the tones right, so I hope you'll forgive me if it doesn't feel completely right, though that is in part, something I was trying to convey.

**A/N2:** In this chapter the _italicized_ parts are flashbacks, except for the last part, which denotes a hand-written note. It should be clear as you are reading them.

When It Changes

Chapter Twenty

Inside Lies Memory

"Call your father Dean," Bobby's voice urged.

Dean already had his cell phone in hand. He was staring at it as if it were a complex machine, not the simple instrument of communication that it was. He knew how to work it, had done so with ease for a long while. But this was most definitely a call he did not want to make. He heard, almost like background noise, Bobby's voice urging him on.

"Damn it Dean, we're losing time here," Bobby swore, something the kids had rarely heard from the staid man. "Every minute…" He didn't need to go on. Dean knew his father's friend was right. Every minute that Dean wasted, being scared of what was happening, being scared of what his father was going to say, was another minute in which they weren't searching. And right now, the hunt was the only thing that mattered.

John cracked open a beer, throwing the bottle cap negligently on the table where his diary and other papers were strewn. He took a long pull off the beer, the only one he would have tonight, before he took a seat. He pulled the diary closer, and then located the small sheet of paper that he'd scribbled some notes on.

After the fight he and Max had had the previous week about her motorcycle, John had felt the need to get away. He needed time to calm down and was pretty sure that Max felt the same way. The motorcycle was still a small bone of contention between them, masking a deeper trauma to John's heart. He'd heard precisely what Bobby had said to the kids and they'd discussed it later. Bobby had wisely pointed out that John would have to let the kids go at some point. And John had retorted that as a father, he could never really let them go. They had each conceded the other's point. But admitting it just didn't make it happen.

So John decided to head out on a solo hunt. It left Dean a little peeved, but when John had reminded the boy that he needed to watch out for his brother and sister, Dean had eased up a little. And that led him to this point. He hadn't gone too far. Just up to Ashley, North Dakota, just a few hours away for a routine ghost hunt. He'd swung into town early this morning, done some recon and then had found a room. And since he wasn't about to crowd his mind with numbing crap from the television, and he really didn't want to continue dwelling on the fact that his children were already past the growing up stage and onto the amazingly adult stages of their lives, he decided to start jotting down notes in his journal.

He set the beer down, uncaring if it left wet circles on the pages he'd collected. Glancing over his notes already made, he began transferring them to the routinely formatted page he continuously copied. He heard his cell phone ring once. His hand paused, waiting to see if it rang again. Since the phone was also sitting on the table top, he glanced at it to check the number listed on the view screen. His brow furrowed when he realized it was the kid's number. He felt his mouth go dry and his heart thumped erratically when the phone began to ring again. That method of phone calls was an old warning. He had used it before with Dean, when the boys were little. Dean never picked up the phone if he and Sammy were alone. John would always let the line ring once, then call back to let Dean know that it was him.

With the advantages of seeing who was calling on the cell phone, they no longer needed that warning. But somehow now, Dean was using this method. It struck fear into John's very core. His hand scrabbled for the phone. He snapped it open and cocked his ear to the receiver.

"Dean?" his voice was raspy and his heart continued to thud up in his throat. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Dad?" Dean's voice was hoarse and John had to strain to hear his son. There was background noise, it sounded like someone else was there with his eldest child. He heard Dean clear his throat and his heart continued to pound a dreadful rhythm.

"I'm here," John responded quietly, waiting for the hammer to fall.

"Dad," Dean began again. Whatever it was that his son wanted to tell him, John knew instinctively that it was catastrophic. He tried to brace himself for the worst, praying that it wasn't true. What he was told was almost bad enough. "Dad, Max is missing."

John felt the air rush from his chest. All at once relief combined with a new fear overwhelmed him. He had to frantically remind himself that Dean had clearly said missing, not dead. Just missing. He could work with that.

"Start at the beginning son," he ordered through dry lips.

"Yes sir."

John heard the modicum of relief in Dean's voice. He realized that Dean was terrified that John would blame him. Truthfully, he did have to stifle some irrational anger. Most likely it wasn't Dean's fault, he'd have to wait and hear the information before making that decision. But regardless, he'd have words for his sons later. And for that matter, Bobby too. He waited while Dean ordered his thoughts.

"We were up late last night," Dean filled him in. John didn't bother to tell his son to hurry up. Background information was good. And he knew that Dean wouldn't tell him if it wasn't relevant somehow. "So this morning, we woke up late. Bobby was up first and he said that Max didn't make coffee like she normally does. We thought that she slept in. But when we made breakfast, Sam went to get her and her room was empty. We found a note saying that she was going for a ride." There his son paused, knowing still what a sore point this was for John. John just made an impatient gurgling noise in his throat and Dean hurried on. "Obviously she didn't take our cell and Bobby's was still in his jacket pocket. We decided to wait until noon. She didn't come back by then, so Sam and I headed into town to see if we could find her. We didn't and there were no signs of vehicular accident. We checked at the hospital but no one fitting her description has been admitted. Bobby has called some other hospitals in the area with the same answer. Her tryptophan is missing from her bag, so we're hoping she took it with her. We came back here and we decided to call you."

John glanced downwards, noting that somehow his hand had kept writing even though he was unaware of it. The stark words that he had written stood out in sharp, bold strokes against the relative pristine condition of the new notebook page. He dropped the pen in his hand and used that hand to rub at his forehead. "I'm on my way," he declared, the decision a moot point. This hunt be damned. His daughter was missing!

"Yes sir," there was no hiding the relief that coursed through Dean's voice.

"And Dean," John added, "if she's not home by the time I get there, we'll call the police."

"Yes sir," Dean's voice was once again subdued.

"Call me if you hear anything," John told him and quickly shut the phone off. He pressed the cool metal and plastic against his lips, his eyes squeezed shut. He ignored the lone tear that rolled down his cheek, just as he'd ignored the voice clamoring in the back of his head, wondering if maybe this last fight had pushed Max too far. If he'd finally succeeded in making her run from them again. But no, another voice contended, Dean said that Max had left a note. That implied that she intended to come back. Suddenly pushing away from the table, John began the hurried task of packing up the few belongings he'd brought with him. His family needed him now.

"I hope you understand sir that I'm required to ask you these questions," the female officer who'd come out to talk to them, later that night was trying hard to be sympathetic. John knew that. But he could only go over the same information so many times. Yes he and Max had had an argument. No Max had never run away before, which was a blatant lie, but the woman had no way of knowing that. But when the line of questioning took a darker turn, John was thunderstruck. He gaped at the woman, the police officer that had just implied…

"I have never…" he choked out, and then shuddered. He tried to control himself. Never in his life had he hit a woman not possessed of something, but right now, the urge was upon him. He was only vaguely aware that Bobby was holding Dean back, while Sammy looked like he wanted to vomit. John took a deep breath, set his jaw and looked the officer square in the eye.

"I have never hit my children," he stated in thorough conviction. "Nor would I ever abuse my daughter in any way!"

The woman stared at him, gauging his words.

"You people are fucking sick!" Dean's sudden outburst served to break the staring contest between father and police officer. Both of them glanced at the eldest son, one grateful for the overt support, the other wary. The woman gave a small sigh and turned back to John, acting as if the words that had flown past Dean's lips made little difference. In her world, people always denied abuse of this kind. It was a dirty, dark, perverted secret. And there was always the possibility that the other children might not be aware of what went on behind closed doors.

But before she could continue that line of questioning again, John shot to his feet and stormed from the room. But before she could follow, Dean had taken his father's place, though he gave her no room for comfort. Officer Alicia Freehan stared straight back at him, allowing no nervousness to cross her features, even though the look on the young man's face was… near primal. Her only allowance in the face of her hammering, nervous heart was to swallow heavily once.

"I don't care what the fuck you think about my father," Dean stated quietly, his voice deadly. "I don't care what assumptions you've made about my family. The only thing that matters is that you get the fuck off your asses and you find my baby sister!"

Alicia pulled back, stopped before she was ready by the unyielding straight backed chair she'd chosen to sit in. The implied menace in Dean's tones made her shiver. All she knew was that she needed to get control of this situation back in her hands. "I assure you," she retorted, just as quietly as her quarry, but with much less confidence, "that we can and will do everything possible to locate your sister." She let that sink in before she continued. "But you need to realize that this information can help us narrow down places that she's gone to, or if we're looking at something else here."

"What do you mean something else?" Sam questioned. Alicia's eyes swung towards the youngest man in the house. He shouldn't have been hard to overlook, but somehow she had. Perhaps it was because when she'd arrived at the salvage yard and come into the house, he'd been scrunched down on a chair in the corner, his arms wrapped about his midsection, looking like he was going to be ill. But now, as he stood to his full height, Alicia wondered that her well trained eye hadn't realized these physical facts about him. Perhaps it was because his eyes were so full of darkness and despair. That was what it was, she decided. And probably also the reason she'd pursued the line of questioning with the senior Winchester like she had. She knew that there was a dark secret in this family. She just didn't know what it was exactly.

She sighed before answering. "We don't have very much information to go on," she allowed. She was walking a fine line here between informing the family of what possibilities lay out there and possibly oversetting them. "There are a lot of scenarios that this could end up being. Your sister could simply have gone for a ride and her motorcycle broke down. Or…"

"Or it could be something a lot worse," Sam finished for her. To her relief, Alicia didn't need to acknowledge that. It seemed that they were just saying out loud something that they'd all been thinking.

Alicia busied herself a moment, going over the notes she'd taken. There was enough to get started on this case. She flipped the notebook cover shut and stood, thankful that Dean had inched his way back from her. "I'm going to head back to the station," she informed them. "If there's anything else you remember or think of, even if you think it might not mean anything, please call us." She paused, and then reached for her coat. She turned to Sam, unable to deal with the fathomless disregard in his brother's eyes. "We'll do everything we can to find your sister."

She stepped away from the brothers, to find that Bobby opened the screen door for her, holding it in a gentlemanly sort of way. "Thank you for coming out so quickly ma'am," he uttered quietly in her ear. Alicia just nodded and took her leave.

The screen door banging shut jolted Dean from his seat. He still couldn't believe that someone could come into Bobby's house with the suspicion that his father was a perverted bastard. Oh true enough, he and Sam had known about the fear's from CPS many times that John was allegedly an indifferent father or physically abusive. But never once had there been that horrible innuendo. It made him sick to think about it. He swallowed heavily and went to check on his father.

John was in Bobby's bedroom, his cell phone pressed against his ear. He glanced up when the door opened, seeing Dean and held up one finger to ask for silence while he finished his call. "Yeah, thanks Josh. Call me if you hear anything." He disconnected the call and grunted at Dean while he quickly flipped through pages of his journal.

"She's gone Dad," Dean informed his father. "That police woman, I mean."

John simply nodded and began dialing yet another number in his list of contacts. Dean leaned his shoulder against the door frame, listening for the first time of many that evening as John informed his friends and acquaintances about Max's disappearance and the many tactics he used to get them involved in her search. From simple asking to strong arm manipulation to outright death threats, John meant to have his little girl back safe and sound.

The sad noise of forks scraping aimlessly against plates was the only sound that filled Bobby's kitchen the next morning. Food was pushed around in an empty attempt to seem normal. The disappearance of Max weighed heavily, not only in the minds of everyone present, but in the very air itself.

None of them had gotten any sleep the night before and eventually, they'd huddled in the living room, wondering sometimes aloud, sometime silently, where she was, what had happened to her. When that subject had become too much to bear, Dean had recalled out loud some of the escapades Max had gotten into. Sammy had joined in, musing on her tendency to come out of every situation with flying colors it seemed. But then Bobby had silently drawn attention to John, who looked very much as if they were discussing someone gone in a total way. As if they were grieving her and he wasn't ready to go to that place. So they had quit and gone back to wondering where she was, what she was doing, what had happened.

To be honest, it was Rumsfeld that first alerted them to the change. His bark seemed to have a questioning quality to it. Bobby rose from the table, taking his uneaten food to the garbage and letting it slide away. He muttered under his breath about the 'stupid dog' as he laid the dishes in the sink.

But Rumsfeld was true to his nature and it was Dean next that understood why the dog was behaving as he was. "Is that a motorcycle?" he demanded with bated breath, his head cocked at an angle. The kitchen returned to deathly silence until moments later, they all heard the familiar whine of the engine. Breakfast forgotten, the Winchester's rushed to the window as one. Looking out, they were able to make out the lone figure that had slowed to take the turn into Bobby's salvage yard. The motorcycle crept forward until it reached the Impala and was brought to a halt. The sudden silence was profound and it seemed that they were all holding their breath. They knew it was Max, recognized her bike, but until they had visual confirmation of her face, they wouldn't discount it as some strange wishful dream.

In moments, she had removed her helmet, but instead of setting it with care on the motorcycle, or swinging it in one hand as she made her way to the house, Max just let the gear drop to the ground. Rumsfeld, who'd known first, had made his way off of Bobby's tow truck, a place he favored, especially after it had been run and the engine was warm, was sitting at her feet, waiting with uncharacteristic patience for her to notice him. And instead of coming in as her family expected, some blithe excuse on her lips as to why she was gone for so long, she dropped to her knees and hugged the puppy to her, burying her face in his ruff.

"This is not good," Dean breathed out quietly. He pushed away from the counter and headed for the door. The other males were a few steps behind him.

Max didn't glance up as they came out on the porch and there was an uncertainty in the men about what to do. They'd tried to convince themselves that what Officer Freehan had said was true, Max had a spot of normal trouble, something that didn't include her being hurt or kidnapped or any of those other terrifying things that happened in their broken world.

To Dean, the fear and uncertainty he read in his sister's posture was a palpable thing. Any anger about her behavior had melted away the moment he had seen her. It was his job as big brother to make the world the safest he could for his younger siblings. He had failed yesterday, but he was damned if he was going to drop the ball this go around. He stepped off the porch, knowing after two steps that his father and brother weren't going to follow. With their senses attuned, they knew that something major was off and hung back, probably not to overwhelm her, though he was certain that she was in for some heavy duty yelling from their father.

He knelt down beside Max, seeing with a little pang in his heart how she kept her face averted from his. "Hey Max," he whispered, unsure of how exactly he should act. "We were worried about you. Are you okay?"

She nodded her head yes a few times, disturbing the dogs fur, but as Dean slowly reached out to grasp her shoulder, the motion changed. She was trembling so hard that it shook his whole arm and Dean knew that something catastrophic had happened to her. He pulled her to him, her head shaking back and forth. Obviously, in most basic terms, she wasn't okay.

"Sh, sh," Dean tried to soothe her, even though no words or tears from her were discernable. "It's okay, you're home now." He repeated this quietly a few times until the trembling seemed to slow down some. "Can you get up? Why don't we go in the house?"

Still quiet, Max allowed Dean to help her to her feet. Her head was still bowed, unwilling or unable to meet anyone's eyes. Rumsfeld followed after them, staying close to Max's heels. Once they reached the porch, no one said anything. John and Sam simply stepped off the porch to add their hugs and support to what Dean was already giving.

Bobby finally cleared his throat. "Why don't y'all come back in the house? There's plenty of breakfast left. And we can give Max a chance to tell us what happened."

But it was the exact wrong thing to say. The shaking started again. "I can't!" was torn from her lips and then she had broken free of her family and run into the house, the smack of wood on wood making their ears ring.

"God damn it!" John swore, though softly. He had prayed over and over since the moment he'd discovered she was missing that she hadn't been harmed in any way, but she assuredly had.

"Those aren't her clothes," Sammy finally noted, breaking the heavy silence. "Unless she bought them… last night." The males tried to fit that observation into the extremely miniscule amount that they knew.

"She flinched when I touched her," Dean mumbled, admitting what had scared him most.

"God," John breathed out again, staring up into the sky, blinking rapidly.

"Now wait," Bobby stepped forward, grabbing his friends arm. "Don't go jumping to conclusions. You have no clue what happened." He waited until all three sets of eyes were on him. "John, go talk to your daughter. And I mean talk, don't yell. Give her a chance to explain." John stared at Bobby, trying to comprehend what the man was trying to imply. Finally he nodded. As he turned to walk up the steps, he heard Bobby handing out the rest of the edicts. "Dean you go call the cops and tell them to call of their search."

"What'll I tell them?"

"Just that she went for a ride, got delayed and had no way of reaching us," Bobby supplied. "They'll assume it was a stupid typical teenage thing and drop it," he decided with the wisdom of familiarity with his local law enforcement. "Sammy, you can help me clean up the kitchen."

"Yes sir."

John knocked quietly to the door of the room Max occupied. There was no answer, not that he really expected any and taking a deep breath, opened the door. He let it swing inwards, his eyes taking a moment still to adjust after being outside in the sun's harsh rays. Max was silhouetted by a glaring halo, framed in the window where the curtains fluttered lackadaisically.

"Max?" his voice was soft, gruffer than he meant it to be. Her only acknowledgement was the bowing of her head. "Sweetie? Can I come in?" There was no reply so John stepped in far enough to shut the door behind him. The latch clicked, echoing throughout the room and John watched his daughter's shoulders spasm once.

He waited, wondering how long she could go without talking. She was a stubborn little thing, something that had only strengthened in the time she'd been with his family. He knew that it was up to him to make the first move.

"Max, its okay," he began, his throat dry and aching with a lump of anxiousness. "I hope you know that you can tell me anything." He waited, hoping that she could open up to him. But again, there was a slight shiver that ran through her frame. "You know," he tried again; "I'm upset that you took off. There's no way in hell I can deny that. You know me too well. But I'm not mad at you," he stressed the last words, hoping to break through her silence. John glanced down at his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets, forcing himself to stay calm, when all he wanted to do was smash through the nearest section of drywall. Maybe this was something she could never talk about. At that moment, he didn't know if he wanted to know.

"I needed to clear my head yesterday," she admitted quietly, her back still turned away from him. John sucked in his upper lip, chewing on it hesitantly, a nervous habit he'd abandoned in his pre-teen years. "So I went for a ride, on my bike."

_Oh God! Oh Dean! Yes! The tighter that he held her, the closer that he pressed against her body… His long, deft fingers slid under the strap of her tank top, baring the flesh beneath it. His lips trailed fire down her neck, tantalizing her senses. She writhed against his heat, pressing against her thighs. As his moist lips neared her, her breath came out in little gasps and pants. Her body tingled. Her hands scrabbled against his hair roughened forearms, wonderingly, discovering that his flesh had goose bumps. His lips returned to hers and he moaned into her mouth as she slid her hands up his shoulders. They stopped, hesitant at where to go next. 'Touch me Max,' he whispered, moving one hand to guide hers…_

"_No!" Max woke from the dream, another in a long line of nights spent discovering the wealth of her own imagination and fascination with the forbidden sexual creature that was her brother. Clamping a hand over her mouth to prevent audible outcries and pressing her thighs together against the ache that lingered there, Max rolled out of bed. She winced as the material of her pajamas rubbed against her sensitized skin. There was an itch screaming to be scratched, and Max knew that it would only get worse. She arched her neck, her eyes unseeing of the ceiling overhead as she numbly, silently pleaded for anyone, anything to take this terror away from her. It was just the start and already it was worse than the last few times combined. When, she cried to herself, when was this going to end?_

_She knew she couldn't stay. Just picking out the soft rumbling snore that Dean gave off when he slept soundly was enticing her from her room. Max clamped her jaws shut as tightly as she could, screaming at herself to not picture her brother naked. To stop thinking about him. To not imagine it was his hands peeling the sweat soaked pajamas from her body. _

_In minutes she was dressed, forcing herself to remember the items she needed. Her license, some cash, her keys, gloves and helmet. She scribbled out a terse note, setting it on the dresser and was definitely ready to leave. She slid open the window, and praying that Rumsfeld was still pup-napping, climbed out and away from that sin called Dean._

"I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going."

_Max barely noticed the exit township sign. The miles had passed in a haze. She blinked furiously, trying to straighten herself out. If she let her thoughts center on her desires, a bloody wreck would be imminent. She gritted her teeth and revved the engine more, the vibrations flowing through her legs and back. The soothing rumble only served to partially take her mind out of her dilemma and she prayed that it would be enough._

"I ended up a couple towns over," she continued in a monotone. John was loath to interrupt, feeling it was better to just let her get this out at her own pace. To rush it might scare her into pushing everything inward. John was sad to say that he was intimately aware of the dangers in that. "I had to stop for gas," she explained, then paused.

_By some grace, Max happened to glance down, noting immediately that the gauge on her gas tank was hitting the low end. Cursing her stupidity for not gassing up her bike the day before, Max began looking for signs of the nearest gas station. Finally she caught sight of a sign, indicating a full service station a mile and a half up the road._

_As she pulled in, she noticed the few cars in the lot. One being filled up, another parked by the store. A family station wagon just pulling away, where Max could see two children fighting over some imagined slight already. _

_Now there was a young man, walking around the car to her right, wiping his hands on a rag he'd pulled from his back pocket. She could see the name tag sewn onto the front of his light blue denim shirt, though it was creased over and she couldn't read the name. _

"And that's when I saw him," Max turned her head, darting a glance at her father. She had only a glimpse of the question in his eyes. "My foster father I mean. Lucy's dad. Good ol' Marv!"

_Even as she tried to ignore the way his dark pants stretched easily over his thighs as he bent to look once more under the hood of the car, the young man turned his head her way. A wink, quick as a flash was thrown in her direction, followed by an engaging smile._

"I just… I couldn't believe it was him," she whispered, turning her head back to the window. "I don't know, I think he was surprised too. I mean, all these years…" She took a deep breath. "When he started walking over to me, I just… I froze." Another shudder passed through her body and John checked himself from going to her then. He knew that she had wrapped her emotions in some sort of protective cocoon and even a slight touch would shatter her.

_The lazy smile that curved her lips was upon her before Max had the wherewithal to stop herself. The young man, hidden from everyone's sight but hers, let his tongue dart out to swipe at his lower lip and Max was just able to stifle a groan as the heat she'd been trying so hard to banish began to coil in her stomach once more. The young man pulled back from the engine and slammed the hood down. He gave a quick thumbs up to the occupants of the vehicle and then turned his face her way. _

_He sauntered towards her, his lithe, wiry body turning slightly to fit between the gas pumps. Max leaned back on her ride, her hands resting on her thighs, a thin sheen of moisture dampening her jeans._

"_Hey little lady," he grinned. "Want me to fill her up?"_

"_As much as she'll take, Jack," Max retorted huskily, finally able to read his name tag._

"I don't know what I was expecting," she whispered. She let out a rueful chuckle. "You could have knocked me over with a feather when he just… outright apologized to me." John grunted. It wasn't what he would have expected either. "And then he tells me," Max rushed on. She couldn't bear to let John interrupt. She needed to get this said. In ways, her sanity, his sanity depended on it. "He tells me that he's been sober and in AA for the last few years." Again it was another surprise to John, but it was possible.

"He asked if I wanted to get coffee," Max explained. "He wanted to talk. I know I- I shouldn't have gone with him. But," a small sob escaped her, "I wanted to know about Lucy."

_Jack pressed against her back, his arms curving around her waist, his chest broad and tight against her. With instructions whispered in her ear, he led her to his suite of rooms at a boardinghouse. He explained that he had the basement suite with his own access and that no one would bother them at this time of day. Max didn't care. All she knew was that the ache was more demanding than ever. Her mind knew, even if her clamoring body didn't, that she could never have Dean. Anyone and everyone was a pale comparison to the strength, the sinewy curves of his body, to the heart that lay beneath. Max wanted, she needed, anybody or anything to take this damnable ache away. If it couldn't be Dean, then who the hell cared who it was._

"We talked," Max got out, though she had to swallow a few times around the lump in her throat. "He bought me lunch, though it was late." She turned her head once more and John could see the softness of her profile, read the sadness embedded deep into her eyes. "And I should have known, you know." She sniffed, trying in vain to stifle tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. John's hands fisted as he struggled to remain where he was.

"The more he talked, about his life, about his job, the more stupid details he told me," Max continued after a moment, "the more scared I got. He never mentioned Lucy. Not once. And I was scared… that if I asked. I started to think that I really, really didn't want to know the answer."

_Jack's mouth covered hers as he wrestled with the keys in the lock. His lips were moist, almost to the point of being a turn off. And even as Max's brain registered this, it was pushed aside. The scent that filled her nose, her mouth, and her senses was purely male and that was all that seemed to matter to her traitorous body. _

_Finally he succeeded, the door banging open behind him. She pushed him inwards, even as his hand scrabbled to pull her into his domain. Max slammed the door shut behind her, only to find her body following as Jack pressed into her. His slobbering mouth attacked her neck as Max pulled his hips into hers, desperate for friction, for relief. Jack let loose of her tumbling curls to slide his hands under the lapels of her jean jacket. _

_The fear rose up her throat so quickly that Max feared she might vomit. Jack mistook her moan and grinned a purely male grin as he pulled her away from the door to rid her of her jacket. Max was unsure if she should follow suit, shivering as cool air made contact with her bare arms, burning up from the desire coursing through her. But Jack was ahead of her, unbuttoning his work shirt with a rapid ease. He pulled the hem from his slacks, letting the shirt hang loose on his frame. _

_He wasn't nearly as muscular as Dean was, Max's mind protested. Her breathing quickened as her mind conjured the lush image of her brother fresh from the shower, a towel riding low on his hips. She closed her eyes, her hands roaming her taut stomach with a mind of their own, her fingers reaching for the hem of her own shirt. She pulled the thin material upwards, baring skin that had never been shared by such an outsider. She heard Jack's encouragement, urging her to bare everything to him._

_To bare everything…_

_Her hands stilled. She couldn't do this. She just couldn't. But her body was working now on instinct and even as her mind screamed at her, her hands completed their journey, trembling with something she had never known._

"Finally, I told him that I had to get back," Max explained. "I went back to my bike. And he followed me, saying that we should get together again. I told him that I didn't think I'd be able to." She paused, swallowing heavily. "I was so stupid. He had that look on his face, you know. Like right before he'd order me to do something. This look, kind of calculating. The best way to… I don't know. Beat me down or something. I was so stupid," she repeated softly. Her hands that until now had been wrapped around her waist loosened and she twisted her fingers together. "He told me that he had something else that he needed to tell me. I thought, maybe he meant about Lucy. And I told myself that he wouldn't try anything. We were in the middle of a parking lot for God's sake!" Her knuckles were turning white under the strain. "And that's when he hit me. Knocked me clean over my bike." She dared a glance at her father again, seeing that he seemed to be studying a point just over her shoulder. "I must have hit my head on the pavement. I don't… I don't know what happened next."

_Max winced as the force of Jack's body upon hers pushed her into the thick wooden head board once more. It was nothing then, compared to the sudden pain Jack caused. She gasped at the unexpected ferocity. Jack seemed even more surprised than she as he stilled and stared down at her._

"_You're a fucking virgin," he ground out; seeming stunned more at the discovery of tears in her eyes. He groaned, his head dropping to rest on her shoulder. _

"_It doesn't matter," Max gasped out. _

"_Damn me," he moaned. "You're so..." Unable to resist the siren call her body was screaming, he moved as Max's body surged against his._

"_It doesn't matter," she whispered brokenly, hatred and loathing of her own body consuming her._

"W-when I woke up," Max sniffled, "I was tied to a chair. It was some motel room. And he… the bastard was laughing at me. Just spewing his garbage at me, drinking and l-laughing."

"_That's right baby," Jack grunted in her ear._

_Max arched her back._

"_Yeah babe, so fuckin' good," he whined.._

"I couldn't help myself," Max forced out a chuckle, the noise sad and rueful. "I started screaming back at him. I just… despised him so much."

_Max was gasping for breath, turning her head away from the strained visage of the mechanic above her. 'Dean,' her mind whimpered, and in an instant his golden face had replaced the reality. His soft smile as he regarded her, his voice huskily whispering of his love. Max's eyes squeezed shut as her world exploded _

"_Oh God! Yes, yes!" she keened as the sensations roared through her. The moment seemed to last an eternity and yet still wasn't long enough. "More," she whispered._

"_That's right baby," she heard Jack rasp and the fantasy shattered. Her body stilled. With nausea welling up in her throat, she watched Jack, telling herself that she should get this bastard away from her. But the fierce twisted face above her scared her. _

"He had a weapon," Max continued to lie. "A gun. I kept screaming at him. I knew I should just shut the hell up, like he said, but I couldn't. So long, and I was so scared of him. I didn't want to be scared of him anymore. It felt like if I stopped, he would win." She shuddered again, swallowing heavily. Carefully, she ran a finger over the crown of her head. "He hit me… with the gun. I don't know how many times. Knocked me out again."

_Max stared down at Jack's sleeping form, draped across her stomach. Her hands convulsed. She swallowed continuously, desperate not to vomit all over. It had threatened first when, with her head turned and her eyes closed, she'd smelled the musk filled aroma of sex. She'd turned her head to see Jack disposing of his condom and she was grateful that at least she'd found someone who wanted to avoid any negative outcomes, just as much as she did._

_Jack had thrown the used latex sheath into what Max had hoped was a garbage can. He turned back to her, his face filled with contentment. He shifted and crawled towards her, scooting down beside her and resting his head on her stomach. Max grit her teeth, wanting to kick and scream and demand that he get the fuck away from her. A little whimper escaped her however. _

"_Sore baby?" Jack asked sympathetically, turning to look up at her. Max simply nodded. The slight burn she still felt between her legs was as nothing. It hardly registered even now. _

_He pressed a kiss against the lower line of her ribs. "Go to sleep sweetheart. You'll feel better later."_

"_Mmm," Max hummed, letting him think that she had agreed with him. It only took about ten minutes before Jack was asleep and Max was calculating how to get out from underneath him without waking him up._

"When I came to again, I was alone. So I tried to get out of the ropes he'd tied me up with."

_Max slid the door shut behind herself, keys clacking in her hand. Without looking at them, she dropped them on the table to her left. She leaned back against the wall, feeling the light switch poking against her shoulder. Shaking, she considered turning on the light of the motel room, but it didn't matter. There was nothing there that she cared to see. There was enough afternoon light filtering through the green curtains that she could stumble her way to the bathroom. She didn't bother to turn on that light either. She just knelt carefully on the floor, a trembling hand reaching for the faucets. She turned both dials on and flipped the shower head on. She rose up from her knees and climbed into the mineral stained tub, remembering belatedly to pull the curtain shut. As the water, bracingly cold still, ran over her, she began to pull the clothes from her body. As she struggled to pull the sodden jeans from her legs, the tears began to roll down her cheeks._

"It took me a while, but I finally got free."

_The water began to warm and soon it was scalding her body. She'd shoved her clothes to the back of the tub with her foot before sobs broke through. Max pushed her face into the stream, wincing as it burned slightly. She jerked back and clamped her hand over her mouth, her teeth biting painfully into her lower lip. As quickly as she could, she shut the water off. She reached for a towel, hanging on the bar outside, her face still dripping moisture. She wrapped the thin towel around her body, pulling it as snugly as it would go before tucking the loose end in, just under her arm. She reached for another, pulling it over her head to catch the drops of water from her hair. She pushed the shower curtain away, not caring that it was outside the tub, leaking water all over the floor. She heard a door bang somewhere and caught her breath in her throat, wondering if Jack had woken up and come looking for her._

"I heard him then, coming back. Th-there wasn't much in the room," Max explained. "So I picked up the chair and when he came in, I hit him. With the chair. He fell down. On the floor. I hit him again. And again. I just kept hitting him."

_Securely wrapped in the scant towels that the motel provided, Max turned, realizing that the only clothes she had were still in the tub. She turned back to the chipped enamel, kneeling on the cool linoleum. She reached for her jeans, wringing them out as best she could. She laid them out on the floor, wondering how long it would be until they dried. She turned back to the tub, her eyes widening in surprise._

"There was b-blood everywhere," she whimpered. "On him. On me. You think I'd be used to it. But I couldn't… it was too much."

_Max was so very shaken, she could barely reach to pick up the underwear that her jeans had covered. Her stomach heaved at the sight of small smears of blood._

"I felt so sick… I just had to get away. I ran."

_The underwear dropped from her hands as Max spun around. She pushed the toilet seat lid out of her way as the retching began. Her back arched with the force of the convulsion that ripped through her stomach, but there was nothing but bile._

"I wasn't sure where I was," Max continued her charade. "It wasn't the same place where I'd stopped. But I found a gas station with a restaurant attached. I-uh, I ducked into the bathroom to clean up a bit. You know, wash the b-blood off. And I needed to figure out where I was. I went in the restaurant. This waitress, she knew something was wrong. I told her that some guy had grabbed my purse. That I'd cut my hand on the zipper when he yanked it from my hands."

_The revulsion that shimmied through her was bearable as Max determinedly pulled on the still damp jeans. Her shirt, slightly drier than the jeans was next. She stared down impassively at the underwear that remained in the tub._

"She said that she had some clothes I could borrow, since mine were all dirty. She wanted to call the police."

_Max slipped from the motel room, determinedly ignoring the bulge in her jacket pocket that the offending material made. Even though she knew that the water should have washed away the lingering scent of Jack's body, she could smell it still. Her eyes fluttered shut and she knew that she couldn't stay in these clothes for long._

_Forcing herself to look around, she noticed that down the block, the businesses faded and gave way to a residential area. Without second thought, she headed that way. In minutes, she'd discovered that she'd lucked out, with an unworried housewife having hung her laundry out to dry in the afternoon breeze. Max crept into the backyard, eyes alert and watchful, ears straining for any noise. _

_Once she had what she needed, she hid between a large fence and a dumpster and changed as quickly as she could. The jeans, slightly too large for her slender waist, rode uncomfortably low. The woman must have been more robust in the upstairs department, because the t-shirt hung low enough to partially cover her thighs. She pulled on the jean jacket that Dean had given her the previous Christmas. Right now, it felt like the only safe thing left in her world._

_Blowing in the wind across the alley, Max found a torn plastic grocery bag. She pushed her own clothes into it, grimacing as she added the underwear from her jacket pocket._

"I told her not to worry about it. You know, since I wasn't carrying much cash. I had my keys and my license in my pocket.

She tried to insist, but I told her the guy was probably long gone," Max muttered. "I, umm, I stopped at the phone booth outside, you know, to figure out where I was. It was so… strange. We'd only gone a few blocks from the restaurant…" She let her head roll forward, her curling hair framing and hiding her face. "I would have called, but I just wanted to get my bike and get… back here."

_Max returned to the motel she'd checked into, seeing that very few lights were on. She fished the keys out of her pocket, climbed on her bike and shakily started the engine. She winced a little as the heavy vibrations of the motor brought attention to the tiny ache of pain between her legs. She ignored the helmet strapped behind her and knocked the kickstand up off the ground. A gentle push and the slight incline in the parking lot gave her the momentum to roll backwards, away from the building. Squeezing the brake, Max brought the bike to a halt. Uncaring of any other patrons whom might be sleeping, Max revved the engine as she left a streak of rubber on the asphalt._

Max winced, rubbing an aching hand over her eyes. "I was so scared to go back for my bike, but I th-thought, after everything, our fight, the money I spent on it, you know… I kept thinking, Dad'll kill me if I wasted all that money."

_Max chose her route carefully, knowing how many different ways there was to get back to Bobby's. The Winchester's had traveled all of them. But there was one in particular that Max wanted. It took her a little out of her way, but it had to be done. Under the cover of darkness, she approached the single lane country bridge. She cut the engine, leaning her bike against the concrete railing. She pulled the bag that contained her soiled clothes from the machine and stepped up to where the water was slowly meandering its course. 'They can't ever know,' she told herself stoically. With a simple gesture, the bag fell from her hands, to be swiftly carried away by the current. 'It'll kill them if they ever find out…'_

At last Max's shoulders slumped down. John waited with bated breath to see if she would add anything more. But there was no more forthcoming. With careful steps, he crossed over to her, avoiding the end of the bed that took up most of the room. Hesitantly, he reached out, his hands hovering over her shoulders before finally descending to lightly rest there. He felt her tense and then forcibly relax. Once she had accomplished that, he turned her and wrapped her in a snug embrace. He rested his cheek on her tangled hair.

"I'm so sorry Max," he whispered.

"It's not your fault," she whispered brokenly as John felt tears wetting the front of his shirt.

His mind screamed that it was his fault. He shouldn't have pushed her so hard, been so unyielding and unforgiving about the motorcycle. Pushing her so hard that she had to get away. It never occurred to him that there could have been another reason for her leaving. But as soon as she calmed down again, his hands moved from her back, up to her head. With tentative fingers, he searched out any bumps or bruises, noting when she winced or flinched. There was a small bump at the crown of her head and seemed to be some tenderness near her temple. Removing his hands, he sighed heavily.

"Max, I know you won't want to, but we should probably take you to the doctor," he told her, fully expecting an argument.

"Yeah, I…" she paused and stepped back from him, slowly looking up to meet his gaze. "You're probably right." She gestured over to her duffel bag, open with a few shirts spilling out. "I should probably change first though."

Her sudden turnaround on the subject of doctors floored him and the nagging sensation that something was really off scared John. For her to actually agree to see a doctor meant that something major had gone down and his earlier worries and fears returned full force. The idea that she had just concocted a story to put his mind at ease, a story in which she was scared but far from completely helpless, began to gnaw at him. His earlier concern that something happened to her that she couldn't discuss with him, or maybe even at all, returned like a lightening strike through him. But John forced himself to calm down. If she couldn't talk to him, maybe she could with someone else.

"All right," he smiled softly. "Let me know when you're ready and we'll head into the clinic in town." He squeezed her arm once, reassuringly, before he left the room. He pulled the door shut behind himself and leaned against the opposite wall, gathering his thoughts. In his peripheral vision, he caught sight of Sam and Dean, in the kitchen doorway, shifting about nervously, anxiously. He pushed away from the wall and gestured for the boys to move out of the way.

Once past them, he motioned for them to follow him outside, including Bobby in his command. Once they'd gone a little distance from the house, he repeated the story that Max had just told him. But before Dean could burst out with fresh torments to visit upon the bastard foster father, John stilled him. Without actually saying the words, he made them understand how deeply Max had been shaken by the encounter. Her agreement in seeing the doctor convinced Sam and Dean that something was afoot. They too understood the implications of what had to have happened to Max.

They did have to wait a while at the clinic. It was a first come, first serve basis, since any traumas went straight to the hospital. When finally Max's name was called, an alias John had assigned to her, since he didn't have health care in his own last name, she jumped up, as if eager to have this over and done with. John followed behind her a little more sedately. A nurse showed them into the examination room and had Max hop up on the bed so that she could take her blood pressure and temperature. She noted that Max seemed a little warmer than she should be, but the girl just shrugged that off. While she worked, John explained that his daughter had had a few bumps to the head and they just wanted the doctor to give her a once over. The nurse cheerily assented, handed Max a gown to change into and led John from the room.

But as soon as the door clicked shut, John led the nurse away, wondering how he could get across to her what might have been needed. But looking at her smiling face, John knew that it would have to be Max's decision of whom she trusted with her secrets. Instead, he told the nurse that if there were any treatments that Max needed, or any 'prescriptions' that 'someone' might object to, to rest assured, that this 'someone' wouldn't object. She'd stared at him for a moment before she seemed to catch on. Her face softened and a sad smile settled on her face. She asked if he'd be willing to sign consent forms to that effect. He told her he would.

Forty-five minutes later, he was signing consent for Max to receive a prescription. He only knew that it was for depo provera birth control injections, because he'd snuck a glance at the file when the doctor's back was suspiciously turned for quite some time. At least she hadn't found any physical damage, one less worry to plague John's mind.

John watched his daughter like a hawk over the next few days. As he was sure everyone else was too. It wasn't hard to catalogue the changes in her. His normally bright, sunny, sassy little girl had withdrawn from them for the most part. She barely spoke at meals. She hadn't touched her bike since she'd gotten back. She silently refused Dean's attempts to get her outside, either helping him with fixing up an old car or going into town to pick something up for Bobby. Even Rumsfeld's pathetic whines at the front door had little effect on her. Bobby finally took pity on the pup and let him in, where the damned dog made a beeline straight to Max on the couch. She'd simply picked the puppy up, rested him on her lap and went back to staring off into space.

Out of the four of them, she seemed best able to tolerate Sam and Bobby. Perhaps it was simply because those two let her be. If Sam was near her, he didn't say anything or push, just read from one of the many books that Bobby had lying around. With innate senses, he'd hold his arm out to her if she scooted even an inch closer, wrapping it around her shoulder as she rested her head on his shoulder.

She was awkward with John, just as much as he was with her. After she'd emerged from the clinic cubicle, she'd kept her head down, her mouth silent. John didn't push then and the moment for broaching the subject seemed to slip away, vanishing completely. She still stayed away from him, though she seemed to be over her initial embarrassment that her father had to have known about her protective role of her emerging sexuality. She answered quietly when he spoke to her, but as of yet, made no attempt to start a conversation with him.

But most puzzling of all was her behavior around Dean. She had pretty much shut him out cold. And as far as John could see, there was absolutely no reason that he knew of for her to do that. She didn't talk to him, she didn't look at him, didn't notice that her treatment of him was slowly breaking his eldest's heart. And Lord bless him, Dean had tried so hard to play the role he'd assumed the day Sammy was born, the protective big brother. And the tenacity his son showed reminded John of a ragged pit bull. Dean talked to his sister and if he didn't receive a response, continued on as if nothing were out of the ordinary. He asked for her help and cheerfully went on his way after each and every refusal. But the pain that crept into his eyes as he beheld his little sister, gave him away to John. Not only was his daughter in pain, but his son was suffering as well. He wondered if he should talk to Dean about it. Reassure him that it wasn't his son's fault, though knowing Dean as he did, his son wouldn't accept that.

Things finally came to a head on the morning that Bobby announced that he was going to head up North. He figured that someone should take care of the job that John had started in Ashley. There were no protests from anyone, though Max just quietly excused herself from the table and retreated to the bedroom. Bobby had apologized, but John shushed him. If things had been normal, John would have headed back immediately. But he and Bobby knew right then that his first priority had to be his children.

Bobby left immediately after breakfast, letting the Winchester's know that they were welcome to stay as long as they liked. They weren't to worry about business, just let any people know that called that he was out of town again. John knew the routine.

Dean, who seemed to have finally given up in the face of Max's avoidance of him, made one last attempt. He told John that he thought he, Sam and Max should run into town. John wasn't so sure that this time would work any better than previous times, but Dean simply assured his father that he wasn't going to give Max a choice. With Sam's help, they managed to drag Max from her room, telling her that she'd been shirking her chores for long enough. They kept their teasing light-hearted, not accusatory and finally she gave in with some heavily petulant pouting. John handed them a short, quickly made-up list and they headed off in the Impala.

They returned a few hours later, and John winced when he heard the abrupt slamming of a car door. He came into the kitchen just as Max stormed in. She was carrying several books, as well as a few bags of groceries. These she dumped on the table, not caring that they spilled out of the bag. In seconds she was back in her room, the door whooshing shut behind her. John went out to help the boys with any other groceries they had. Both boys looked guilty and John asked what had happened to set Max off.

"Things were going fine, until brainiac over here wanted to go to the library," Dean grunted as he pulled some paper bags out of the trunk.

"Hey," Sammy protested. "It's not my fault that some idiot decided to defame a book!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" John puzzled. He glanced back and forth at his sons. Dean finally shook his head and began to gather up some canned goods from a bag that had tipped over. Sam sighed and turned to face his father.

"We were checking out some books," he began. "Max wasn't ready yet. She was looking over some books on training dogs. You know, we thought that was a good thing. Next thing we know she's slamming the book shut and taking off."

"Taking off?" John growled, panic gripping him.

"Just to another section Dad," Dean quickly assured his father. "She didn't leave." He shut his mouth again, more than happy to let his brother explain the rest.

"Well, Dean and I went to see what bothered her so much," Sam continued. "And the book she was looking at…in the uh… section on um, breeding dogs?" John nodded slowly. "Well someone had drawn a dirty picture… with captions."

"What did it say?" John asked suspiciously. Sam, his face tinged pink glanced at his brother, but Dean had already gathered up the bags he could carry and was heading into the house. Sam was on his own with this one.

"Just something really tasteless about bitches in heat," he muttered, glancing away. John didn't ask for any more information, what he heard was enough. Both men sighed. John grabbed a bag of groceries, while Sam snagged the last two. John chuckled as he looked over what he could see in the bag.

"How much crap did you guys buy?" he demanded with a wry smile, remembering the six items he'd put on the list. Sam smirked and ducked his head. John pushed the trunk lid shut and followed after his son.

"Pretty much anything Max expressed an interest in," Sam replied with a rueful shrug. He paused in his steps and fixed his father with a hesitant look. "You know Dad…"

"What son?"

"Nah, it's probably nothing," Sam shook his head, but John was interested to know. He nudged his son's shoulder and arched his eyebrow. "I just…I can't figure out why Max is avoiding Dean the most. You know, out of us all, they're the ones that were thick as thieves. You'd think that he'd be the one she'd turn to for help."

"I wondered the same thing myself Sammy," John conceded. Sam waited but John shook his head. "And I still don't have any answers about it."

They walked slowly to the house and along with Dean began the chore of finding space in Bobby' limited cupboards for the massive amount of junk food they'd bought.

Max remained in her room the rest of the day. There was only one phone call about getting a tow truck and John, as Bobby had asked him to, referred the customer to another company. At supper time, he could see the restlessness in his oldest son's behavior. He wasn't at all surprised when as soon as the dishes were done and put away, that Dean announced he was heading back into town. That said, he'd grabbed his jacket and keys and was out the door. Sam let out a grunt of protest, but John calmed him, letting Sammy know that he understood Dean's need to blow off some steam.

What they didn't expect was that he'd be back in a little over two hours, slightly drunk, with a couple boxes of chocolates under his arm and a bag of videos in hand. He came in, gave them a patented Dean Winchester 'I'm-up-to-something' grin and began to fish through the drawers in Bobby's desk. Once he found a pen and a scrap of paper, he scribbled something down, set the videos by the television and then sauntered down the hall. There he set the chocolates on the floor in front of the bedroom door, set the note on top and knocked loudly. He immediately returned to the kitchen where he dug through the refrigerator for some of the soda they'd bought earlier.

John made to ask what his son was up to, but Dean silently put one finger to his lips and leaned back against the counter. After a moment, they heard Max's door open, then close. Dean tilted his head so that he could see down the hall. He smiled when he noted that his sister seemed to have taken the bait.

"Like giving candy to a baby," he chuckled quietly.

"Uh, isn't it supposed to be 'taking candy from a baby'?" Sam asked cheekily.

Dean fixed his brother with a slightly disgusted look. "Dude, why would you take candy from a baby? That just makes 'em cry." Sam shook his head, though he couldn't deny his brother's logic. And before a brotherly type debate could begin, they heard the door open again.

Max emerged from her room, the chocolates in hand. She made a beeline straight to her eldest brother, a shy smile on her face. "You got me chocolates?" Dean glanced down at the boxes, his face giving away the glee in his well intentioned plan. "Why?"

"'Cause you're cranky," Dean smirked, leaning back again and crossing his arms in front of himself. Whatever answer Max had been expecting, that didn't seem to be it. But however Dean had meant it; it seemed to get the job done. Max aimed a small punch at her brother's shoulder and stamped her foot.

"I am not cranky!" she protested, frowning at him.

"Oh but you are," Dean countered, and then poked his sister lightly in the stomach. "Must be from not eating all those gourmet meals we've been slaving over."

"Gourmet, right!" Max scoffed. "Since when is mac and cheese considered haute cuisine?"

"Hey, I'll have you know that I blend at least two different kinds of cheese for my special mac and cheese," Dean teased.

"What two cheeses," Max retorted, a small grin on her face. "Stinky and stinkier?"

"Well at least Dean can make mac and cheese," Sam chimed in. "Unlike some people who eat it raw out of the box."

"Hey that was one time!" Max giggled as Sam tugged at her hair. "And you should talk Mr. I-refuse-to-eat-Spaghetti-o's."

"Oh God, don't remind me," Sam groaned, holding his stomach. At his father's puzzled glance, Sam elaborated. "That's all Dean would make when you were on hunting trips."

"Hey!" Dean protested. "That shit was cheap and easy to make. Just heat 'em and eat 'em. Left more money to afford those damn Lucky Charms that you insisted you had to have."

"Hey, you liked them just as much as I did," Sam taunted.

"Did we get any popcorn today?" Max asked suddenly, interrupting her brothers. They both stared at her a moment, dumbfounded.

"Yeah you did," John answered, moving forward to check the cupboards. "It's here somewhere." Max joined in the search, exclaiming occasionally when she saw something else she seemed to want to munch on. She tossed a bag of chips to Dean.

"So what videos did you get?" she asked as she searched through some lower cabinets.

"Oh, let's see," Dean mumbled, recalling what he'd picked out as he reached for a bowl to pour the chips into. "I got uh; 'Pretty Woman', 'Gone With The Wind', and some other chick flick all the girls seem desperate to want to see."

"Oh tell me you didn't!" Max gasped, staring up at her brother in horror. Dean tried to look innocent, but soon began to laugh.

"Hell no," he finally gasped out. "What, you think I'm crazy?"

"What did you really get?" Sam asked, smiling.

"Just a couple Bruce Lee's," Dean shrugged as he fiddled with the chip bag. "And of course the latest, greatest Van Damme flick."

Max giggled, remembering the nights that they'd sat around watching those flicks, making fun of the man who considered himself some sort of martial arts god. "At least it wasn't a Steven Segal bomb," she decided happily. "I mean, gah, he is allowed to speak in more than one tone."

"Something no one in Hollywood is brave enough to tell him," Sam added. But something nagging at him suddenly made him pipe up. "Uh Dean, doesn't Van Damme usually uh… you know? In all his movies?" He widened his eyes and looked intensely at his brother, trying to convey his meaning. Dean looked puzzled until he finally caught on, remembering the actor's tendency to…

"You mean when the Clod drops trou Sammy?" Max asked, pulling her head back from the cupboard and grinning up at her brother. "Don't worry, we can fast forward through it," she decided. She got up from the kneeling position she'd been in on the floor and flashed Dean and John a grin. "Wouldn't want to offend you're delicate sensibilities big bro."

"I'm not delicate!" Sam protested, watching warily as Max placed some microwave popcorn in the appropriate appliance. "I'm not."

"Actually," Max shuddered, "I hope you are, because the other possibilities are just too icky to think of." Sam gasped at the implication while Dean laughed.

"Oh, nice burn!" he crowed, pulling Max into a hug. To John's relief, she didn't flinch or draw back, just let the satisfied smirk rest on her lips. Apparently Dean noticed it too, if the flash of triumph he threw at his father was anything to judge by.

Sam growled at his little sister, "I am not gay and I'm not a woman!"

"Denial Sam," Dean chuckled. "It ain't just a river."

"All right, that's enough," John smiled, breaking up the party before it could get out of hand. "What do you guys want to drink?"

"Did we get cherry cola?" Max asked immediately, moving from the shelter of Dean's arms to gaze in the fridge with her father. John plucked out one and handed it to her.

"Sam?"

"Anything's fine," his middle child responded.

"Got mine already," Dean added in before his father could ask. John snagged a few more pops and a beer for himself. That done, they gathered up the snacks and headed to the television. John was about to turn off the kitchen lights, when Max's voice floated back to him.

"Dad, can you grab my chocolates?"

"Yeah, I got them sweetie," he answered as he doubled back to the counter where they rested. As he pulled the two generously sized boxes from the Formica topped counter, a slip of paper fluttered to the ground. With a grunt, John released the boxes and bent over to pick it up. He recognized Dean's handwriting immediately, but folded the paper over. He would return it to Max, he told himself, once he'd read it over to see what Dean had managed to write that so decidedly brought Max out of her funk. He didn't kid himself that he was going to respect their privacy. He was just smart enough to do it when he wouldn't be caught. He shoved the paper in his jean pocket and once more grabbed the chocolaty treats.

Once he made it to the living room, Sam informed him that they'd chosen Bruce Lee's "Enter The Dragon' to watch first. John nodded and took a seat on the sofa. The kids however had made a pile on the floor before the couch with Dean and Sam tucking Max securely between them. John waited until his daughter was settled with the afghan some lady had crocheted for Bobby, resting across their laps. He passed the chocolates to his daughter and she immediately tore into the wrapping, pulling the cellophane away.

"Oh," she exclaimed softly. "Cherry cordials?"

"Yup," Dean replied just as softly. John was amazed at the tender look on his son's face as he regarded Max. "Did I do good?"

Max smiled up at her brother, and then leaned her head on his shoulder. "You did excellent." She took one of the candies, and then offered the box around, warning them that they could only have one piece each. Sammy protested, Dean teased and Max defended her chocolate. It seemed that the evening was going to turn out all right.

They'd managed to watch all the Bruce Lee films. But John felt his attention flagging when they finally popped in the Van Damme movie that Dean had picked out. It was one of his older ones, despite what Dean had said. And the kids did make half-hearted attempts to crucify the actor, like always. But John noticed that they'd slipped into slumber about a third of the way through. He debated about waking them up, and then decided to leave them where they were. Max was resting too peacefully for him to want to disturb the advances they'd made with her tonight.

As he leaned over to snatch the remote from Dean's slack hand, he heard the crumple of paper from his pocket. He glanced at the kids' faces, checking to make sure they were definitely asleep. With ease, he leaned back and pulled the creased sheet from his pocket. He leaned towards the lamp that aside from the television was the only source of light in the room. He smiled when he read Dean's honest plea, glad that somehow his son had found the right words.

_So I was sitting at the bar, getting drunk, completely bored out of my mind. Like beyond belief. Cause I didn't have my little sister there making fun of all the drunken idiots around us. And I thought, you know, I'd rather be at home, even with you not talking to me, than be anywhere without you. So I grabbed a bunch of videos; we've got plenty of snacks. What do ya say?_

_Your favorite big brother_


	21. Overrated

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident as the story progresses, but much further down the road.)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Twenty-one

Overrated

"Sam!"

He heard her voice a distance behind him. Sam spun around, surprised to find that Max wasn't right behind him. A place that she'd been when he'd checked only moments ago. Cursing slightly under his breath, he hurried back the way they had been coming, his eyes alert and searching for any sign of the demon they were currently hunting. After twenty long-legged strides, he found her; half slumped against the smooth bark of a cottonwood.

"Max?" he questioned quietly, approaching with caution. "Are you hurt? Did it-?" His gun, loaded with regular, though anointed bullets was in his hands. But Max was shaking her head and Sam realized that there was no blood. A small tremor shook through her and her teeth chattered together in the chill of the night.

"S-seizure," she got out softly and Sam resumed cursing under his breath. He hurried to her side, still trying to be aware of their surroundings. As his eyes flicked around the wooded grove, he mentally cursed his father and Dean as well.

They'd started out this hunt together, wisely backing each other up. But when Max had called Sam's attention to some unfamiliar spoors on the ground, he'd stepped over to look at them. But John and Dean, so focused on finding the demon, hadn't noticed them stopping and continued on the trail they were working.

He'd called out after them, quietly, not wanting to bring down the attention of the demon upon them precipitously. But they hadn't heard and he had no idea if they had noticed yet that their group had become separated. It was the same reason that he didn't call John on his cell phone.

"Where's your tryptophan?" Sam demanded softly, kneeling beside his sister; as she slowly sank down to sit on the ground.

"C-car," she stuttered, wrapping her arms around herself. She took in a deep breath, her eyes also scanning their surroundings.

"Can you walk?" Sam demanded. Before Max could answer, they heard something snap in the foliage. They waited a moment in silence, wondering whether their prey had become predator once more, or if John and Dean had finally noticed the missing duo.

"Sam! Look out!" Max screamed suddenly, pushing Sam to her right as she instinctively rolled left.

Sam rolled once before stopping himself with his heel dug into the ground. The medium sized demon, smart enough to attack weak, helpless individuals, did not seem smart enough to take out the person with the weapon. Well, the weapon that it could see. All that was on its mind was a gnawing space in its belly that demanded to be filled.

The creature lunged at Max, deeming her to be an easy kill. However the demon was deadly wrong in that. Still on her back from where she had rolled to, Max knew that she couldn't let the beast get in close. She and John had argued extensively about her using a gun to protect herself. In the end, she'd won out and was really now regretting it. She had a pair of daggers that Dean had leant to her, but given that they were currently nesting in her waistband at the small of her back, they weren't doing her much good. All she knew was that she had to force the creature back so that she could either get to the knives, or set up a clean shot for Sam.

When the creature lunged for her, she brought her feet up, catching it in the chest with a powerful stroke, forcing it back. Sam took the opportunity to shoot, but the creature, sensing the danger from its side, turned and the anointed bullet, meant for the creature's heart, caught it in the shoulder. The beast howled its pain and fury, for while the bullet didn't kill at this juncture, it still hurt like hell. The blessed oil would slowly work to disintegrate the flesh it pierced.

Its distraction however, gave Max the chance to retrieve the knives. Her only problem was misinterpreting how deeply affected she'd been by the sudden surprising seizure. The dagger, aimed at the heart, was off course by a wide mark. It did manage to connect, slicing into the beast's face.

As if sensing the danger of extinction, the creature hunkered down low to the ground, trying to keep both Sam and Max in its eye line, which they made impossible. Sam, his heart pounding loudly in his ears, in that split second moment that he had before he was forced to act, tried to decide if he should take a back shot and hope like hell that he got the heart, or waste time getting around to Max. He only had two of the bullets left. He couldn't afford to waste them distracting the creature, hoping like hell that his father and brother would show up in the knick of time.

Max however, took the decision from him. She threw the other dagger with as much force as she could muster. Still, it was only a glancing blow, which the creature shook off quickly.

It growled menacingly at Max, seeming to have forgotten all about Sam, who stood poised, ready to take the hell beast down. He lined up his shot with a practiced eye and once the creature had turned fully towards Max, squeezed off the trigger. His shot was clean and the afreet's back arched as the bullet pierced the organ it was meant to. Its arms extended, pained whimpers torn from its gaping jaw and slowly the beast began to topple forward.

"Max move!" Sam yelled, darting again to the side. But she couldn't. She was trapped in a full on seizure.

Sam dove for his sister, hoping against hope that the thing's teeth hadn't grazed against her. He wasn't exactly sure if this creature, like the werewolf it had been impersonating, could harm humans posthumously. On his knees beside her, he could hear Max gagging over the foul smell of the beast's dying breath. It heaved once and with a small sigh, was dead.

"Max!" Sam shouted, even though she was right beside him. "Did it get you?" His heart seized a moment when he saw blood on her hand, but she was already shaking her head as well as she could.

"T-tree," she managed to gasp out. Sam nodded, understanding that she'd only scraped her hand against a natural entity. With a grunt, he began rolling the creature off her, careful to avoid still sharp claws. Then, with an instinct born out of the many frustrating years of information his father had pounded into his brain, he reached for the gun and held it on the creature. He knew the shot had been clean, but with his sister lying prone, so near to the creature, there was no way in hell that he was going to take the chance that he was wrong.

"Can you walk?" he asked again. He wanted to turn his head to look at her when he heard a muffled rhythmic thumping, but there was also the threat that this dijinn hadn't been alone. As far as his and his father's research had been able to find, the afreet wouldn't regenerate the damage they had done to it for at least two hours, maybe even as long as twelve. If they could cut the heart out and destroy it, the dijinn was dead.

"N-no," she finally managed. Sam swore under his breath, trying to figure out what the hell to do. The tremors in her voice alone were enough to tell him that this was one of her more serious seizures; if not the most serious she'd ever been through. Finally his fears spurned him into action. Sam turned so that his back was presented to her.

"Climb on," he instructed her, reaching his free hand back for her to grab in case she needed it. It took her a few tries, but finally, he was able to piggyback her out of the clearing they were in. His dad and Dean could deal with the afreet, since he and Max had slightly more pressing issues at the moment.

"D-dean's kn-knives," she stammered, drawing Sam's mind to where the hell his father and brother were. He knew they would have to have heard the gunshots. Had to have known they'd lost Sam and Max. They should have been there moments after that very first report of the gun. Yet they weren't. This meant one of two things. First, they weren't sure which direction the sound had come from and so were backtracking their way, watchful of monsters. Or two… and he really didn't want to go there.

"Dean'll find them," he assured her. And his big brother would. Likely, there'd be hell to pay at Sam's leaving them behind, but Dean would calm down once he knew about Max. She was more important than the knives. "Let's just get to the car."

It took an agonizingly long time to make it back to where the Impala and John's truck were parked. Luckily, they'd encountered nothing else on the way. Tired and slightly worn out, Sam leaned against the Impala's trunk, so that Max could just slide down his back to a seat. He was sore from trying to stay steady when her tremors were racing through her and by the closeness, into him. It amazed him, the strength that she had developed in controlling those tremors. Holding her on his back had taken all his energy and both hands, making it impossible to call his father.

Once he was sure she'd remain upright, Sam dug his set of car keys out and began a quick search for Max's bag. The only thing was he couldn't find it. Shaking his head, he ran to his father's truck. But the bag wasn't there either.

"Max?" he called, slightly alarmed. "It's not here."

"Wh-what?" she stammered, twisting around to peer at him a few feet away.

"I can't find your pills," Sam reiterated. "Are you sure you brought them?"

Max closed her eyes, her jaw clenched as she tried to control her chattering teeth. She remembered putting the pills in her bag, then setting the bag on the chair by the door in their motel room. Dean had set another down on top of it. On the way out the door, Max reminded him about the bags. Had Dean forgotten to grab hers as well?

"I d-don't know Sam," she whispered. Sam let out a grieved sigh.

"Well if they're not here, then they should be back at the motel," he decided swiftly. "Let's go."

"D-dad?" she asked, her trembling causing her to more circumspect with her words than usual.

"They can ride home in the truck," Sam asserted, moving to open the passenger's side door before going back to the trunk to assist his sister.

The drive back to the motel was short, but tension filled. Sam kept one hand on the wheel, while his other loosely held their cell phone. He'd tried calling John once, but was informed that his father's cell was out of service range. Considering the dense forest they'd been moving through, Sam wasn't surprised. He kept one eye on the road, while the other flickered back and forth between said phone and his sister. The seizure was getting worse and every time he noticed, his foot pressed a little harder on the gas pedal.

"Almost there," he soothed. He wondered if it would be faster to run into the room, get the pills and bring them back to Max, or try and help her inside. From experience, he knew that it took a little time for the pills to work their way through her system. But the longer she went without them, the more she'd need to take. And with the way they were both feeling, now that some of the adrenalin of facing the afreet had started to fade, Sam didn't know if they could manage to get her into the motel room quickly enough. Decided, he was bent on getting to their room as quickly as possible.

Pulling in at a haphazard slant, Sam killed the engine of the Impala and had his door open in one smooth move. He clambered from the low seat and dashed to their door, pulling his key out, startled slightly at how smoothly things were going. But just as he pushed the door open, he heard the familiar chirp of the cell phone. He ignored it for a moment, deciding that he'd call whoever it was, probably his Dad, back once he'd taken care of Max. Or, if she was up to it, Max would answer.

Right as he'd thought, the bag containing her tryptophan was sitting on the chair, the bottle at the top of the mound, just under the zipper. Sam whirled back around, not caring that he left the door open. He was unscrewing the cap as he went. He could see Max trying to get her door open and caught it just as she succeeded.

"Ph-phone," she groaned.

"I know," Sammy smiled as he shook out four pills. He held his hand out as Max obediently opened her hand. He dumped them in there, even though it would have been quicker for him to just place them in her moth. But she was strangely stubborn about that. Instead of worrying over it, or arguing with her, Sam helped guide her hand to her mouth where she dry-swallowed the pills. "Let me help you inside and then I'll call whoever it was back."

Max gave a small nod.

Catching his second wind, Sam simply lifted his sister out of the car and carried her inside. Once he'd deposited her on the bed, he returned to lock up the Impala and take their normal nightly precautions around the room. As he surreptitiously watched his sister's continued convulsions out of the corner of his eye, he wondered about something he'd read about a few months ago. He turned to pick up the bottle of tryptophan and shook out another pill.

"Hey Max?" he called, gathering her attention. "Have you ever tried taking this under your tongue?"

She looked puzzled at him for a moment, and then understanding dawned. "N-no. I n-never even th-thought about… th-that."

Sam nodded. It hadn't occurred to him either until just now. "I don't know if it would work," he shrugged. "You'd probably have to grind it up, but maybe it would get into your system quicker that way."

"D-doesn't h-hurt to tr-try," she agreed. Sam nodded once, and then ducked his head, looking for something to grind the pill into powder with. Finally deciding on the butt end of the gun, he checked to make sure it was clean of debris, gun oil or powder. Once it was, he carefully ground up as much of the pill as he could. Grabbing a clean sheet of paper, he scooped the powder onto it and brought it to his sister.

"Open up," he grinned shakily. Max rolled her eyes but obediently opened her mouth again. This time though, she'd lifted her tongue to the roof of her mouth. She kind of looked silly doing it, but Sammy didn't care. Knowing that some drugs were taken this way to be more quickly absorbed into the bloodstream made it worthwhile. After he deposited the last of the powder, he put the paper aside and used one finger to push at her jaw. She closed her mouth, her nose wrinkling over the taste of the raw pill.

"Wha nah?" she mumbled and Sam actually did feel a chuckle rumble up out of his chest. He couldn't help it, she sounded so silly.

"I don't know," he shrugged, after deciphering her words. "Just let it sit there until it dissolves I guess."

She shuddered once more, though Sam couldn't tell if it was the seizure or something else. "Tess goes."

Sam furrowed his eyebrows together, trying to decipher that one too. "Yeah, I suppose they would taste gross."

He couldn't laugh over it though, since another bout of trembling started shaking her body again. Knowing that she needed the reassurance of physical contact, Sam plunked himself beside her on the bed and wrapped his arms around her slighter form. He held her that way for a good many minutes before it finally eased off and he felt her head loll on his shoulder.

"Better?" he asked softly. She nodded slightly as the cell phone began to ring again.

"I better get that," he sighed. He steadied her before removing himself and hurried to pick up the phone before it went to voicemail. As expected, it was his father's number on the view screen. He turned the phone on and answered quietly. "Yeah?"

"Where the hell are you?" his father's raspy voice demanded heatedly.

"At the motel sir," Sam bit out. John hadn't even asked if they were okay.

"What the hell happened?" John demanded, his voice surly.

"Dad," Sam began, intent on explaining, but was interrupted by an irate father.

"Is Max there with you?"

"Yeah," Sam answered, turning once to check on her. She'd scooted down lower on the bed. "She's here."

"That was damned irresponsible of you Sammy," John barked out. "Why the hell didn't you two keep up? What the hell were you thinking?"

"Max had a-!" But John cut him off again.

"And what the hell were you thinking, leaving us behind?" John continued his rant. "Why didn't you answer your phone earlier? You didn't even bother to cut the damn thing's heart out!"

"I'm trying to tell you Dad!" Sam yelled into the phone, his eyes growing hard. "Max had a seizure and she didn't have her medication with her."

"What?"

Sam knew by the sudden quietness of his father's voice that he'd finally penetrated the rant that seemed long overdue from his father. Quickly Sam went over the story, back from the moment when they'd gotten separated. As he had expected, they hadn't heard him originally call when Max had found the spoors and by the time they realized that they'd lost Max and Sam, Dean had unknowingly tripped a humane trap.

John had just been pulling his eldest son's leg free when they'd heard the first gunshot. And again, as Sam surmised, they'd been unable to automatically pinpoint the location and had decided to make their way back along the trail they'd been on. It had been slow going because they didn't know what Sam had been firing at, if it had been the afreet or something else. So they'd been cautious and Dean had been contending with his slight injury. They'd found the demon and now it seemed that upon discovering that Sam and Max were well, it was business as usual.

"…so we'll bury it and then head back," John concluded.

"Yes sir," Sammy offered reluctantly. Sometimes, more often than usual now, Sam wondered at his father's insistent drive at this vendetta. Max was lying on the bed behind him, having seized so badly that her brain could have swollen and killed her and now John was nonchalantly discussing what to do with the remains of the thing that had nearly killed her. He wanted to shout at his father that maybe Max should have come first in his mind. Shouldn't he come home and make sure that the next time he saw his daughter; it wouldn't be as some nameless, faceless coroner was zipping her up in a body bag?

Sam's shoulders sagged.

It was useless. Utterly useless to even bother trying to approach this with John. Just like everything else in his crazy messed up life. He hung up the phone and debated setting it back down on the table. Finally he decided that he didn't feel like getting up to retrieve it if someone else called. Like an automaton, he made his way back to the bed to check on his little sister, wondering if in all the years that Dean had been looking after him, taking care of his needs, his older brother had resented their Dad like he did now.

Knowing Dean, probably not.

"What's wrong?" Max asked quietly from her spot on the bed. Sam remained where he was for the moment. He knew that she had enough to think about without him adding his worries to the mix. But, also knowing her, he knew that she wouldn't let this alone. He just needed a moment to frame his answer. Slowly he turned to face her. Chewing at the corner of his lip, he regarded his little sister.

Finally he threw the phone onto the other bed and took a seat at the foot of the bed she rested on. "Doesn't this ever bug you?" he asked quietly, contemplatively.

Max stared at him a moment, trying to discern his meaning. "The seizures?" she asked, a frown marring her forehead. "Of course they bother me. B-but there isn't much I can do about them."

"No," Sam clarified, waving his hand around the motel room. "I mean this. Hunting, always being on the road, the way Dad…" He trailed off, not knowing how she would react to his only somewhat irrational anger. He knew he couldn't kid himself that Max and Dean had been oblivious to the tensions that arose between his father and himself. Most of the time, they were right in the thick of things, trying to get Sam and John to cool it before blows were exchanged. Not that they were truly worried that it would ever come to that. It was a certain law in their family that John just didn't hit his kids, not ever in anger. He might cuff them upside the head to get their attention back to where it should be, but that was it.

And Sam just wasn't one to go in for overt physical displays of anger. He usually tended to bottle it up and then explode over little things that paved the way to the airing of the bigger things that were the true heart of the problem. Usually their fights involved a lot of yelling before John walked away and Sam retreated to his books or a computer or something to divert his focus so that he could calm down.

"Don't you just get tired of it?" he asked again, hearing the weariness in his own voice.

Max smiled shakily, shrugging her shoulder. "The first ten years of my life were completely the same Sam," she offered. "Every single day it was the same old thing. Honestly, I like the change. We always get to see someplace new. I've learned about stuff I never imagined I would. I'm actually good at something that was never in my scope of possibility before. And we're helping people. Saving their lives. That counts for a lot, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does," Sam bit out grudgingly. "But Max, that was before."

"Before what?" she asked gently.

Sam drew in a deep breath before replying. "Before Dad got caught up in this obsession again." He eyed his sister, wondering if this conversation would remain private. It wasn't so much that he was worried that she would run tattling to their father, just that he needed the chance to get some things off his chest. Things that his father and brother refused to listen to.

Max leaned forward, resting shaky arms on her knees. She waited for him to continue and Sam felt chagrined. Of them all, Max knew best how to keep her silence on anything you needed her to. "Now that we're out of school, out of the program, it's like Dad doesn't have to be so distracted anymore. He doesn't have to worry anymore that people are going to interfere in our lives. Now he can get back to going after that demon that killed Mom and the best part of all is he's got three little soldiers backing him up, ready to jump in the line of fire, all in the name of vengeance."

He hadn't noticed her flinch at his soldier reference, but probably would have written it off as a part of her subsiding seizures. "Do you really think that Dad thinks of us that way Sam?" she demanded softly.

Sam glanced away, shaking his head, the mop of unruly hair falling into his eyes. Impatiently, he shoved it away, standing up as he did so. "No!" he denied, even though deep down he felt that there was some justification in what he was saying. "But honestly Max, as soon as he found out you were okay, it was right back to business."

"Well what was he going to do?" Max chuckled derisively. "Run back here to hold my hand and sing me lullabies?" Even Sam had to chuckle at that thought. He quickly sobered up again though.

"I don't know Max," he sighed. "I just… I really wish that this were all over."

"Okay," she spoke simply, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with him. She just accepted.

"It just really pisses me off that Dad will do almost anything to get this demon," Sam went on. "He'd sacrifice anything."

"Would he Sam?" Max pressed, staring intently at him. Sam flushed and glanced away again. No, he knew that wasn't true. There were certain things that he wouldn't sacrifice, namely three things, Max, Dean and himself.

"I just don't know how he does it Max," he muttered. He looked fully at his sister, taking a seat on the bed opposite her. "How does he keep on going? After everything that's happened? When I was a baby, when we were growing up, when you…" He trailed off suddenly, realizing that he'd almost strayed into the unspoken, forbidden territory of Max's disappearance.

"When I what?" Max asked tartly, seeming to already know what Sam was referring to.

"When you disappeared," Sam covered hastily, unable to meet her eyes.

"Why would that be a factor in Dad being strong?" she asked wryly.

"Because of what happened to you Max," Sam answered softly. "Dad- we, couldn't be there to help you, to keep you safe from that bastard…"

"It was no big deal Sam," Max shivered, glancing away now herself.

Suddenly Sam saw red. He was so tired of his family always trying to downplay all that was horrible in the world. "It wasn't nothing Max!" he exploded. "The bastard ra-!'" But suddenly he caught himself again. Biting his lower lip, Sam clenched his jaw. It wasn't right for him to push those horrible things back to the front of his baby sister's mind because he didn't like the way his father conducted himself.

Max stared at her brother, seeing the tension nearly radiate off him. "The bastard what?" she questioned pointedly. But her brother stubbornly refused to answer. The words played over in her mind and suddenly, the tense behavior from all the males, from John on down to Bobby suddenly became crystal clear in her mind. Now she knew why they had stepped so lightly around her, why they hadn't questioned her story. And the knowledge of how close they were to the actual reality of that sordid day lodged like a lump in her throat. But for them to have gone all this time believeing…

"You thought Marv…?" Max managed to get out. Her eyes fluttered shut a moment as she took in the implications of what was weighing so heavily on her family. She had to stop this, to convince them that she was all right. Otherwise it was something, stoic men that they were, that would gnaw in their livers for the rest of their lives. "Sam?" she waited until he slowly raised his gaze to her face. "Sam," she repeated, her words clear and strong. "I wasn't raped Sam."

He stared, unconvinced. Max scooted herself to the edge of the bed and reached out to grasp his hand. Sam's gaze dropped to stare miserably at their entwined fingers.

"I guess I can see why you'd think that," Max went on, a little shakier now. "But that, thank God, never happened."

"Then why…" Sam began, unable to meet her face. "Why were you so quiet? So withdrawn? Why did you let Dad take you to the doctor?"

"I went to the doctor," Max began, deciding that this would answer all his queries. "Because even though nothing horrible happened to me, I couldn't shake it off." She saw that she most definitely had his attention now. "Even though I was back home with you guys, I was still tense, nervous, shaky. My heart… it was pounding so bad, hurting." She laughed softly, averting her eyes as she lied once more. "I thought I was having a heart attack."

"Oh my God," Sam groaned in sympathy. His fingers tightened on hers.

"What happened to me in that motel room," Max continued, her voice so quiet that Sam had to lean forward to hear. "It was as if… as if someone else had come into my mind and just… pushed aside everything that I was, you know? I couldn't act… just react, to everything that was happening to me."

Sam, knowing that she once again needed physical comfort, for more profound reasons than her seizures, shifted himself and her so that they were once again sitting side by side, without ever having let go of her hand.

"I wasn't in control anymore," Max admitted. "He… he had a power over me. He did those things to me… said things to me. And I let him." Finally with that admission, tears came. Sam let her cry, not knowing what to say. "I gave him that power and I lost myself. That's never happened to me before Sam." Her voice was imploring, begging him to understand. In a weird way, he did. "I lost myself."

Silence reigned until Max finally rubbed at her eyes with her free hand and shifted slightly away from him.

"So what did the doctor say?" he asked carefully. To his surprise, Max laughed, although it was a rather deprecating sound.

"According to her," she began grandly. "I was still in the throes of the trauma I had suffered."

"Like post traumatic stress disorder?" Sam questioned, aware from previous media hype what a serious condition it was.

"Not that bad," Max shook her head. "It was just a plain, old-fashioned panic attack."

Sam nodded. He could certainly understand that. "And after? Was that why you were so withdrawn while we were at Bobby's?"

"Partly," she shrugged. "Some of it was trying to work through what happened. Some of it was… "

"Was what?"

Max exhaled loudly, pursing her lips. She turned her head to look at her brother. "Don't take this the wrong way Sammy," she frowned. Sam shook his head, indicating that he wouldn't, or at least would try not to. "Some of it was you guys. You were all trying so hard to make me feel like everything was okay. It just kind of, I don't know, pointed it out even more harshly that things weren't okay."

That made a certain amount of sense to Sam. "So what changed then?"

"Uh, well," she ducked her head, grinning even as she blushed. "It was, uh… Dean."

"Dean?" Sam scoffed. Max glanced up at the teasing tone in which he spoke.

"Yeah, him, that guy," she giggled. "I'm sorry, but there he was in a bar, getting drunk, probably surrounded by honeys, but he was so worried about me that he left it all behind."

"Yeah, I guess that is pretty flattering," Sam conceded. Max giggled again.

"Well I just figured, if he was going to make that much effort, maybe it was time I reciprocated," Max explained. "I thought that if I made some effort to get back to normal, it might make things better. And it did."

"Yeah, I guess so," Sam sighed. He glanced down at his sister. "We were really worried. I guess it wasn't the right thing in the end to be worried about, but still."

"I know," Max sniffed back her tears. "I worry about you guys too," she admitted quietly. Sam smiled. Even though the subject had been disturbing, it felt good to get things out in the open, to clear the air. "Oh hey," she exclaimed, pushing herself upright again. "If you're interested, that doctor gave me some pamphlets about the panic attacks, stress relievers, those sorts of things."

"Why?" Sam smirked. "Do I look like I'm having a panic attack?"

"You're not quite there yet," Max giggled. "But sometimes I wonder."

"Where are they?"

"In my bag, side zipper," Max told him. With easy and deceptive grace, Sam extricated himself from his sister's side. It amused him that she could switch gears so easily. But unlike his older brother, who also rapidly switched gears, it wasn't to avoid touchy feely moments. Max genuinely was interested in the subjects that her lightening fast mind moved to. And if talking about literature that a doctor had given her would distract her from the lingering tremors, then Sam was all for it.

He moved back to her pack and checked the first zippered pocket, but those were her toiletries. He zipped it back up quickly and reached across to check the other one. As expected, there were a small handful of colorful brochures. Smiling, Sam flipped through them. But the smile quickly faded as his roaming eyes landed on a particularly unexpected notion.

Sam slowly turned, extricating the damning evidence of something he really didn't want to think about. "You're on birth control?" he asked, disbelieving. And even as her head snapped up and her eyes flashed to his and then back down to her lap guiltily, he still didn't want to believe it. All the previous suspicions came rushing back to him.

"God!" Max snorted, her fingers picking nervously at the accumulated balls of lint on the comforter surrounding her. "Is nothing private in this family?"

"Does Dad know about this?" Sam demanded, shaking the pamphlet in his hand.

"Well duh!" Max retorted scathingly. "He's the one that signed the papers for it."

Sam exhaled loudly. His father knew, had approved. He realized just after Max, why now John had actually allowed it.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Max huffed. "Dad's always making sure that you guys have condoms."

"It's different," Sam snapped, still dazed. But then he realized how harshly he was speaking and tried to soften his tone. "And I don't use them." He realized the message he was sending when he heard the muffled gurgle in the back of her throat. "No. I didn't mean that. I meant that I haven't really had the chance to put them to use much. Um... That didn't sound any better, did it?"

"It's okay Sammy," she giggled again. "I'm kind of in the same boat." At his puzzled look, she gestured to the pamphlet. "Read the paragraph about the side effects."

Grimacing slightly, Sam did as directed. He knew of course what female birth control was, what it was for, but in his health classes that he'd taken, they'd never gone into the other medical aspects of what the hormone based pills did. He read through quickly and blushing, glanced back up at his sister.

"So, you uh… aren't um, taking these for…?" he stammered.

"Sam, you saw what a mess I was around that time of the month," she teased. Sam ducked his head, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. He didn't know which would get him into more trouble with her. "It just wasn't worth the hassle."

Sam nodded, kind of seeing her point, though he knew he'd never truly understand, thankfully not ever having to be in her shoes on that point. And it was kind of a relief to know that if the pills worked the way they should, bitchy Max would be a thing of the past. At least bitchy at that time of the month Max. She could be awfully bitchy when she felt it was warranted.

"Could you do me a favor Sam?" Max asked him softly. He looked at her, seeing the uncertainty in her face. "I mean, I know it won't be comfortable."

"What do you need?" he asked without hesitation. Whatever it was, he could endure a little discomfort if it made her feel better.

"Could you tell Dad?" she asked plaintively. "I mean," she hastened to say, "you don't have to give him specifics or anything, just, you know, let him know what we talked about?"

It was an easy decision to make. "Of course," Sam half-smiled. It might be an uncomfortable topic to broach, but it was something that would lift a huge weight off of their minds. "But what about Dean?"

"Oh, um," Max actually blushed. Sam was stuck suddenly by how girly Max could actually get over some things. "Well, I don't think he needs to know about the birth control."

"Yeah," Sam spoke derisively, "he'd pretty much blow a gasket over that wouldn't he?" He laughed, imagining his brother's Neanderthal attitude trying to adjust to the fact that his little sister was growing up. Even if the prompting behind her decision had been for health reasons and not the obvious ones, Dean would still be opinionated over it. "Don't worry," he chuckled, leaning over to rub her shoulder. "I'll take care of it." The look of appreciation that crossed her face was almost startling. Sam could see her whole body relaxing as another small tremor passed through her. It was then that they heard the subdued roar of their father's truck.

"Speak of the… well, not devil," Max smiled.

"Okay, why don't you try and get some sleep," Sam instructed. He hid the birth control pamphlet back into her bag, carefully zipping it up before gesturing to the door. "I'll go head them off at the pass." He got another grin in return and just as the truck pulled into the lot, Sam was waiting, standing closer to the passenger's side as it turned out. He gestured at his brother before Dean could open the door, and seeing this, John cut the engine and leaned forward so that he could see past his eldest son.

"Is she okay?" Dean asked immediately, even before he'd gotten the window rolled down. Sam nodded quickly.

"She's still having a few tremors, but I think the worst has passed," Sam informed them, leaning against the door, with one hand hooked over the frame.

"So then let me out," Dean grumped.

"Just hang on a sec," Sam huffed, leaning his full weight against the door.

"What's the matter?" John asked quietly. He could see the papers Sammy was holding, wondering about them.

"Max and I got to talking," Sam began quietly, leaning his head in so any chance passerby wouldn't overhear him. Not that it was likely that late at night, but you never knew. Quickly and with only some embarrassment over the topic, Sam managed to relate what Max had told him about her abduction and the resulting stresses. Both older Winchester's seemed immensely relieved, though John still looked a little suspicious. Dean simply gestured for his brother to open the door and let him out. Sam did so, holding the door open while Dean snagged his duffel bag from the floor of the truck cab.

"You coming?" he grunted as he hefted the bag over his shoulder.

"In a minute," Sam shrugged. "There's something else I need to talk to Dad about." John, hearing that, stayed put. Dean's glance darted back and forth between their faces; both stoic and a small frown line appeared in his forehead. "We're not gonna fight," Sam assured his brother in put upon, annoyed tones.

"All right," Dean shrugged, either too tired to worry about it, or maybe actually believing him. Sam waited until his brother had entered the motel room, teasingly chiding Max over leaving his daggers behind and deciding that she'd have to clean them herself, before he climbed into the seat that his brother had just vacated. He pulled the door shut and awkwardly shifted his legs around so that his body was turned toward his father.

"What else did she say?" John demanded as soon as Sam was settled. He knew that there had to have been more.

"She didn't want Dean to hear, 'cause he'd lose it," Sam smirked. John frowned. "Uh, about the birth control Dad…"

"She told you about that?"

"Um, well no," Sam hedged. "I kind of found out on accident." John didn't bother to ask how. If his son said it was an accident, then it was. "Anyways, after we talked about the other stuff, she and I realized that you probably let her get it, um 'cause, well, you know."

John nodded.

"But apparently, she didn't."

"Didn't what?" John demanded irritably, unsure what Sam was trying to tell him. "She didn't get it?"

"No," Sammy hastened to explain. "She got it because it's supposed to help her with, um… thattimeofthemonth," he finished in a rush."

"With what?" John squinted at his son, leaning towards him. "That time of the month?" he clarified after taking a moment to decipher his son's impromptu babble. Sammy nodded gratefully, glad that he didn't have to repeat himself. John's gaze focused towards the motel room, his eyes half-lidded as he mulled this new information over. He turned back towards his son. "You sure?"

"That's what she told me," Sammy shrugged. "And I read the pamphlet that the doctor gave to her about it. If it works the way it's supposed to…"

There was a little pause before John chuckled wryly. "Okay son, good to know."

Everything was back to normal, at last, Max mused. Well, as close to normal as their strange little family could get. She shrugged on her leather coat as she moved through the motel room, with kitchenette this time as she mulled over the changes the last few weeks seemed to have brought. John, Dean and Sam had relaxed quite a bit with her and more hunts came their way. Right now, they'd crossed the border into Kansas, as far as the males had wanted to go. John was out, not having bothered to tell them what he was going to be doing. Sam was taking a shower and Dean was flipping through the channels on the television.

Max moved over to the table in between the refrigerator and the beds. Casually picking up Dean's coat and rifled through the pockets. Once she'd found what she wanted, she laid the coat back down and crossed over to the bathroom door. She knocked and waited until she heard Sam's muffled "what?"

"I'm heading over to Lawrence to pick up the mail," she informed him loudly, partly to be heard through the door and partly over the volume of the television. "Do you want me to pick you up anything?"

"Nah, I'm good," came his reply. Max nodded once and headed out. Dean hadn't said anything, so she simply assumed he either wasn't paying attention, or didn't need anything. She had her hand on the knob when the volume abruptly quit.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" her older brother demanded. She turned and fixed him with an amused stare.

"Out to get the mail," she spoke slowly, "oh aged deaf one."

Dean rolled his eyes as he swung his legs off the bed and stood. "I know that brat," he growled at her. He crossed over to her and grabbed the hand that held his car keys. "I meant where do you think you're going with these?" He shook her hand, making the keys jangle against one another.

"Dad took the truck and he's having another one of his twitchy vibes about my baby," Max explained with a smirk. Dean sighed heavily. Max pulled her hand loose and crossed her arms. "So it's either take the Impala, or you come with me."

An agonized grimace settled onto his face as Dean mulled over his options. He knew that letting Max go off on her bike when their father was against it would only bring down his wrath on all their heads. But again, going back into Lawrence was something he'd sworn never to do. Every single time their father had returned, for whatever reason, Dean had found some way out of it. But still there had to be a way out of this.

"Yeah, something else," he finally said, distinctly. "Now give me my keys."

"Huh?"

"If Dad asks," Dean grinned, still holding his hand out, "you asked if you could take your bike. You heard yeah, but I said something else."

Max's sudden grin matched his. "That way I can blame you, you can blame me and he hopefully won't yell so much."

"That or we can tell him Sammy took off in the car," Dean smirked. "Then Dad will yell at him and I get an excuse to kick his scrawny little butt."

"I heard that!" Sam yelled, obviously finished with his shower. Dean waggled his eyebrows at his sister as she giggled.

"Better scram then imp!"

Max stepped forward to press a quick peck on his cheek while depositing his keys in his hand. Dean stood still for her sibling affection, and then reached out with his free hand to tickle her ribs.

"And pick me up some chips and pop," he instructed as he turned to head back to the bed.

"Whatever," she scoffed happily.

As she got on her bike, Max checked her inside jacket pocket to check that the letter she wanted to mail to Molly Gallagher was secure. It was, and she began her trek to retrieve the mail.

It only took Max a few hours from the motel before she was pulling into Lawrence. She'd come with John before on these trips, so she knew exactly where to go. She'd once asked about their old house and John had clammed up for the next day, so she'd never asked again, even though she was still curious about it. On this occasion, she didn't bother. She didn't want to have to lie about what she'd done. It was better to just grab the mail and head back.

She entered the post office and headed for the Winchester box. As she expected, the mail accumulated didn't fit into the small cubicle assigned to the family. All that was there were two notes. One stating that their mail was behind the counter and they could pick it up during regular hours. And the other stating that there was a registered letter waiting for Samuel Winchester. Judging by the date of the card, it had just arrived yesterday. Intrigued, Max shut the small door and turned the key to lock it.

She rounded the corner into the actual office, pulling her own letter to Molly as she did so. Se waited for her turn to quickly come and was greeted by an unfamiliar man. Given that it had been a while since she'd been there last, Max figured he must be new. She laid down all three items in her hand.

"I'm here to collect our mail," she informed the man. "Box 268 and I need a stamp for this letter."

The guy smiled and nodded, picking up the two cards. "Did you want the registered letter?"

"I can sign for it?" Max asked.

"I'll need to see id, but yeah," he informed her. Max quickly pulled out her proper driver's license and waited for the man to return. He laid a grocery bag on the counter and then a letter clipped to a clipboard. Max showed him her license and he efficiently extricated the letter, turning the clipboard to face her. He indicated where she should sign, handed her a pen and turned to retrieve a stamp for her letter. Max handed him the correct change and he rang it up, bidding her a good day, while he affixed the stamp to the letter and turned to put it in the sorting pile.

Max gathered the bag and letter and moved out of the way for the customer behind her. The usual ritual was to quickly discard all the junk mail that they ended up getting, put aside the credit card offers and check to see if there were any vital missives from friends or other hunters. But Max was drawn to the fact that Sammy had an honest to goodness registered letter. As she used her back to push open the glass door, she flipped it over and checked out the return address.

Leland J. Stanford University.

She paused in the doorway, puzzled. What on earth did they want with Sam? There was only one likely explanation. Sam had been applying to colleges. And one of them had replied. Now, all those times that she'd seen him hunched over that thick manila envelope, hiding it from her and Dean and their father, suddenly made sense. He must have had brochures and whatnot in there.

Sighing, Max stuffed the letter into the grocery bag. She was sure that she'd find out soon enough what it said, though, judging by the thickness, she imagined she knew the answer already. Deciding to head over and find some coffee while she went through the mail, Max headed back to her bike.

The whole ride home, she wondered about the letter Sam had received. She knew Stanford was a pretty prestigious university. She also wondered why Sam hadn't said anything about applying for school there. Maybe he had just wanted to see if he could get in. But Sam wasn't the type to go for possible accolades. If he'd applied, then he was serious about attending if accepted. And because he hadn't said anything, Max was quite sure that she shouldn't say anything either. She wondered briefly how she could give the letter to Sam without John and Dean realizing what was going on. Dean was nosy enough to horn in on anything that Max gave Sam, with a few exceptions. And even as she thought it, Max realized that there was a way to be sneaky in her family.

With that in mind, Max pulled into a moderately sized convenience store. She headed over to snag the snacks that her brother had asked for, though it was beyond her why. It would have just been easier and quicker for him to go after the stuff himself. But typically, Dean chose to let her do the work instead. She snorted to herself, deliberately picking out the whole grain snacks that he despised and a large bottle of orange juice. That would teach him. She grabbed a drink for herself, John and Sam, and then headed over to check out the magazine rack. She quickly found what she wanted, paid the clerk and was back on her bike.

She stowed the purchases with the mail, then reached for the cell phone she'd easily convinced John that she needed. She dialed her brother, not knowing if John was back from his impromptu day trip.

"Yeah?" came her older brother's bored voice.

"It's me," she answered pertly. "Just wanted to let you know I'm almost back."

"Okay," Dean acknowledged. She heard Sam in the background and then John's voice. "Hang on." Max waited, figuring that Dean was going to relay a message from one or both of them. "Max?"

"Yeah?"

"Sam asked if you could pick him up something to drink," Dean relayed. Max smiled to herself. "And Dad wants to know how long you'll be."

"About twenty minutes and I already got something for Sam," Max informed him. "And no, I didn't forget you either."

"Yeah, that's my girl," Dean chuckled. "See you in twenty then."

Max didn't bother replying as she hung up her phone and stuffed it back in her jacket, eager to get on her way.

Once she pulled up to the motel, she could see faint shadows through the curtained window, of her family moving about in the room. Knowing that she had to act quickly, or else they'd converge on her to make sure she was all right, Max quickly slipped Sam's letter into the magazine she'd bought. She slipped it back into the bag of groceries, collected the rest of the mail and headed to their room. Before she could even knock, Sam had yanked the door open, his eyes bright and welcoming.

"Finally," he sighed, reaching to take a bag from her, but Max elbowed him away. "I was about to die of thirst. The water here is gross."

"If you were that thirsty, why didn't you find a pop machine or something?" Max chuckled.

"I tried, but they were out of anything decent," Sam sighed, following Max to the little table in the kitchenette. "And then Dean said you'd already bought me something."

"I did," she confirmed, smiling at her eldest brother and father. "Just a second," she muttered, pushing his hands away from the bags. She opened the grocery bag and pulled out the pop she had chosen for him. He opened it gratefully and took a large swallow. Then she pulled out the magazine. "I also got you this."

Sam continued drinking, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. He looked comical as he tried to slant his eyes to see what was in her hands, still trying to slake his thirst. He held out his hand as he finished one last gulp. "Oh," he muttered, realizing what it was. His eyes darted back up to Max. "I already read this issue."

"You did?" Max tried to sound surprised, even though she already knew that. "Oh shoot."

"That's okay," Sam chuckled, setting the pop down to flip through the magazine once more. "You didn't know. I can always read through it again."

"Sure thing," she smiled back. "Actually, there's an article on some new computer graphics that I wanted to look at, if you don't mind." At least that way she could ensure that he wouldn't throw the magazine away unread, with his letter still inside. Sam just nodded and Max turned to her waiting family.

"Did you get my stuff?" Dean demanded, holding out his hands.

"Dean, we're going for lunch right away," John chided, a fond grin gracing his face.

"Which I will eat," Dean retorted cheekily. "But I'm about ready to pass out with hunger, thanks to waiting for miss slow poke here."

Max said nothing, simply tossing the chips and juice in her brother's lap. He stared at them incredulously, then back up at his sister.

"You are such a brat," he grimaced, pushing the food aside. "Now where're my chips?"

"You didn't specify what kind of chips Dean," she taunted sweetly.

Sam, who had been slowly flipping through the pages of the familiar computer magazine, felt something slip. He caught it automatically, figuring it was probably an insert for subscriptions. But oddly, it felt too thick and his eyes strayed down to take in the cream colored envelope. Flipping open to the page where it was inserted, he drew in a sharp breath as he realized what it was. His eyes darted to his family, who weren't paying any notice of him. Max and John were now arguing over her applying for a credit card and Dean was digging through the grocery bag, looking for anything he could munch on. Max distracted him with a candy bar and his eldest brother started shuffling through the rest of the mail.

He knew that Max had done this for him, somehow figuring out his secret. Taken aback by the unexpected arrival of this letter, Sam wasn't sure what to do. But since Max had gone to some lengths to keep it hidden, Sam decided that that was the best course of action. He slid the envelope back into the magazine and as casually as possible inserted it into his duffle. At least Max had the sense to choose something to hide it in that John and Dean wouldn't rifle through. After zipping up the bag, Sam straightened up.

"So, who's ready to go eat?" he asked brightly, clapping his hands together. He ignored his brother's mumbled 'finally!' and grabbed Max's sleeve as she brushed by him. She paused and glanced up at him. "Thanks," he muttered quietly. "For the magazine."

Max held his eyes for a moment, understanding passing between them. "You're welcome."

It was so much later, finally that night, when Max had a chance to talk to her brother. He'd taken off back to the motel as soon as he'd finished his meal. The rest of the family had followed along desultorily, since there was no hunt in the town they were in. They were just taking a short break from traveling. When they entered the motel room, it was to find him watching television. But Max could see the thoughtful apprehension in his eyes, not really taking in what was before him.

Dean had decided early in the evening, since there was nothing good on TV, that he was going to head out to a bar down the road. John had simply sighed and told him to be careful, everyone in the family knowing exactly what he'd meant.

Eventually, their father had fallen asleep on the boy's bed. Max had waited until she was sure he was asleep, and then motioned Sam to join her in the bathroom. She turned the shower on and then turned to her brother.

"What's up?" Sam asked, slightly uncomfortable as he leaned against the bathroom sink. Max sank onto the closed toilet seat.

"Did you get in?" she asked quickly and quietly. The air seemed to deflate out of her brother.

"Yeah," he sighed, not bothering with the denial that would have been on his lips with anyone else. He waited to hear the accusation in her words, her tone, to see it in her face, but when he chanced a glance at her, all he could see was a luminous smile.

Max hopped up and wrapped her arms around her brother. "That's so great Sammy. That's wonderful."

Sam wrapped his arms around her in return, not even caring that she called him by his hated nickname. "I guess," he mumbled. Max let him loose and stepped back.

"How many schools did you apply to?" she asked softly.

"Four," Sam answered with a shrug. "This was the first reply I got back. I uh, really wasn't expecting it so soon."

"So?" Max prompted, trying to figure out what was really bothering her brother.

"So?" Sam mimicked. Max stared piercingly at him, suddenly understanding.

"Dad's going to freak, isn't he?" she demanded, voicing his fears for him.

"In more ways than one I'm afraid," Sam agreed.

And there wasn't anything Max could say to refute that.


	22. It Ain't Much

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: If you don't know after this chapter…

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Twenty-two

It Ain't Much

Dean stumbled slightly as he navigated the road back to the motel. He certainly wasn't drunk, he assured himself. Just sort of… pleasantly tipsy. It was just lucky for him that the Impala and truck were still parked where the family had left them, or Dean might never have remembered which room they were in. And he could easily explain that away as well. They stayed in so many different places; the numbers to all those rooms got jumbled up in his head. That the number of the room was written on the key tag for the door never occurred to him. He was just… pleasantly tipsy.

Dean could see no lights on, but consulting his watch once again, knew that even his father would give up waiting for him after two-thirty. Dean snorted softly. Dad probably thought he'd scored with some hot chick tonight and was crashing at the ladies place. While there'd been a few members of the opposite gender present at the bar, there were none that Dean could quite lower himself to be with. It wasn't that they were ugly, just a little off-putting. Of course, in one case, it was the wedding band that had turned him off.

No, his evening had been spent playing pool, listening to music, drinking beer and between these things, listening to the locals chat. In all, it had been a pretty boring evening, although it did serve its purpose. Dean knew when he left that he needed either a quiet place to think, or to be distracted entirely from the matter at hand. And that was whatever secret that Sammy had been keeping from him.

It was obvious to everyone that Sam was hiding something. That little envelope that never left his grubby little hands or duffle bag was a big clue. And the kid was extremely careful never to let anyone catch sight of what could be in that envelope. At first, Dean had feared that it contained some sort of blackmail material. He'd had fun planning retaliation for that. But when no pranks were forthcoming, he felt let down. And then he had begun to watch his brother more closely.

The problem had been pushed to the back of his mind with Max's disappearance. And now that the rest of her story was out in the open, there'd been a huge weight lifted off of Dean's shoulders over his stomach clenching, finger numbing guilt he felt over allowing it to happen. And no matter what anyone said to him, he would always flagellate himself for letting his sister go off on her own and get kidnapped. Hell, he'd do the same if it had been Sammy or his dad. But with Max, it was just different.

But back to Sammy and whatever secret he was keeping, Dean was willing to bet cash money that Max was somehow now in on it. The looks that had passed between his siblings that day, after Max had returned from Lawrence, were not quite subtle enough. Or maybe Max's were, because all Dean ever caught was that slightly panicked look in Sam's eyes as he'd carefully shake his head or glance away, flushed slightly.

Now it was for Dean to decide if Sammy had told Max what was going on, or the more likely route, that Max had stumbled upon some clue and reasoned things out. Dean figured it was that way, because there hadn't been any kind of confrontation on his younger sibling's part. But that didn't necessarily mean that there would be. Knowing how girly his younger brother could get in some ways, Dean figured that the pair of them were more likely to go off and have a deep meaningful talk, filled with bunny rabbits and rainbows. He snorted to himself once again. Whatever Sam was keeping secret, Dean probably didn't care to know. It was just the fact that Sam, his baby brother Sammy was keeping secrets from him.

It only took Dean one try to fit the key into the door lock. He'd long ago learned to perfect this technique, having come back enough times to a motel room in this condition to know that repetitive tries would wake everyone up and then there'd be hell to pay. As soon as he had the door open, Dean slipped inside and toed off his boots while he carefully shut the door.

Pushing the boots to the side, Dean glanced around the room. There was a faint light gleaming from under the bathroom door, since whoever had hung the door had overestimated the length and cut the frame too high. A glance at the empty couch told Dean that his father was probably in there. He shrugged his coat off and laid it gently over the table. Suddenly, he was tired enough that all he felt like doing was dropping into the bed and drifting rapidly off to lala land. But it was for naught when he was confronted by two large lumps in the bed that he and Sam had snagged.

Even as he stared down at the larger form, the blanket moved and Dean found himself staring down at his father. "Hey Dad," he whispered. A wry grin graced John's face for a moment and his hand moved out from under the blanket so he could check his watch.

"Sorry Deano," he grunted, also quiet, "you're on the couch tonight." Instead of arguing about it, Dean just nodded and began to move away. It was rare that John succumbed to the lure of a bed and Dean hardly could begrudge him this time. "And turn off that damn light, will ya?" John's voice followed after him.

Dean grunted an unintelligible response, but his father was already snoring again. With his jaw cracking on a huge yawn, Dean made his way to the couch across the room, pulling the t-shirt from his torso. He threw it to the end of the couch where his feet would probably hang over, then sat to peel his socks off. They chased the shirt, one of them rolling to fall to the floor. Dean rubbed at the bridge of his nose and sighed. He didn't really feel like getting back up to go and shut the light off, but his very vocal bladder easily changed his mind.

With the carpet muffling his bare feet, Dean padded back across the room. The glare of light was a little brighter the closer he got and he squinted his eyes against it, knowing that if he didn't he'd be in trouble. He pushed the door open, but the sight inside was enough to widen his eyes and make his slack jaw gape.

Time seemed to slow for Dean.

There was his sister, his little sister, stark nude in the shower stall. One leg up, foot resting on the rim of the tub, her body bent over as her hands smoothed something or other down her toned calf muscle. He must have made a noise or something as suddenly Max's head snapped up and panic flew through her face.

"Dean!" she screeched and time seemed to snap back into its proper stream. Max's hands scrabbled for the towel that was hung over the bar and Dean had the fleeting image of the rest of her body before his own hand clapped over his eyes.

"Sorry," he shouted out, "Damn it, I'm sorry! It was an accident!" He whirled around, intent on giving his nude sibling some privacy, only to be delayed by running into the door frame. He staggered to the side and something caught him in the back of the head as he tried to right himself. It probably was a towel thrown at him by his irate sister. Feeling for the door or the opening, anything with his free hand, Dean finally made it out to the main room. Still with his hand over his eyes, he reached back to pull the door shut, luckily snagging it with the first try.

He finally dropped his hand down and winced at the sudden glare from two lamps that had come on with Max's screech. Both Sam and John were sitting bolt upright, alerted by Max's voice that there was trouble. John was searching the room, pistol in hand, while Sam merely glared sleepily at his brother.

"It's okay Dad," Dean caught his father's attention. He jerked one thumb over his shoulder. "I accidentally walked in on Max's shower." A puzzled look came over his face. He turned his head towards the door. "Speaking of which," he began loudly. "What the hell were you doing taking a shower at three in the morning?"

"I was shaving my legs you jerk!" came the agitated reply. Dean's right eyebrow quirked up.

"So why didn't you lock the door?" he demanded.

"Because Dad and Sam were asleep and I didn't think you were coming back tonight idiot!"

"Ah, did you miss me?" Dean teased, having heard the hitch in her voice.

"Like a hole in my head moron!"

"Oh you've got nothing to be ashamed of Max," Dean chuckled. Now that the moment of panic was over, he had quickly reverted back to his fairly easy going nature. "You've got a nice figure, pretty face, maybe someday down the road; you'll find a guy as wonderful as your big brother. You know, like in thirty years or so."

"You looked at her?" Sam demanded incredulously, his face flaming in embarrassment for his siblings.

"Yeah," Dean shrugged. "What part of 'it was an accident' didn't you understand?" He turned fully and knocked on the door. "Can you hurry it up Max; I need to take a leak."

"You can go piss in the kitchen sink for all I care you pig!"

Dean grinned, and then turned back to his brother. "I think she's just pissed off 'cause I can finally start teasing her about the rack she's developing."

"Oh my God," Sam groaned, burying his face in his hands. That was another something about his sister that he really didn't want to think about. "Shut up Dean!"

"What's wrong with that?" Dean chortled evilly. "I tease you all the time."

"Because she's your sister maybe," John put in dryly. He had, until now, been watching the scene unfold fairly impassively.

"Well it's not like we're biologically related, right?" Dean smirked. "I can look!"

Both Sam and Max's voices rang out together.

"For the love of God, stop it Dean!" that came from Sam.

"I'm fifteen you pervert!" came from Max.

"God, you guys can't take a joke," Dean huffed, though his eyes were still twinkling. He turned back to the bathroom door. "I only tease you because I love you. And I didn't see anything Max. Whatever I did see, was promptly forgotten and with as much as I drank tonight, will never be recalled. Okay?"

That seemed to mollify her as she finally came out of the bathroom, fully dressed in a long nightgown. Dean spared her a tight smile and dashed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. As he took care of business, he concentrated on anything but the scent her soap had left behind in the room.

He quickly washed his hands and opened the door. He shut off the light, glancing once towards Max's bed. She was under the covers, with the blanket pulled up high to her chin. John had already turned his lamp off and Sam was waiting until Dean had made it to the couch before he'd turn the other off.

There was still though, one more thing puzzling Dean. As he spread out the sheet to lie over the couch, he glanced at his sister. "How come you were shaving your legs at three in the morning? Couldn't sleep?"

"When would you prefer me to do it?" she groused sarcastically. "Maybe at eight in the morning when three other people need to use the bathroom? Or maybe the moment we check in when everyone wants to leave to go eat? Or maybe I should just do it in the Impala when you're driving ninety miles an hour down the road like a bat out of hell."

Dean chuckled. She did make a good point. He lowered himself to the couch, kicking one end of the thick blanket to the end of his couch, not caring that it was tangled around. "All right Sammy," he muttered and his brother obligingly shut off the lamp. Dean closed his eyes, but unlike what he'd said before, the golden image of his lithe sister refused to be dismissed.

John was grumpy. After being woken up the night before, he had a slight headache from the interrupted sleep. Not to mention the fortunately brief screaming from his daughter. Of course, it was completely understandable. Nobody liked being walked in on in the bathroom under the best of circumstances, not that he could imagine any. Of course it didn't help that Dean had been teasing Max all morning. And it didn't help that Max had noticed Dean's slight hangover and had hid the acetaminophen and was making as much noise as possible. John was just glad that they had no neighbors in the motel who could have and would have been very justified in making a complaint.

To that end, he'd instructed the kids to pack up. They were getting out of there before any more damage could be done. And when they were finally ready to go, he'd tersely barked out the rides. Max with him and Sammy with Dean. There was no protest at all from the children. No, that all came later.

They'd gotten about twenty miles down the road, when Max's new cell phone rang. She frowned at the number on the display, then snapped open the phone with no small amount of irritation.

"What?" she demanded. Her eyes widened, then narrowed and without further words, snapped the phone shut again. She turned to her father. "Have you ever noticed that your eldest son is a complete ass?"

John had to duck his head quickly so that she wouldn't see the grin on his face. He quickly schooled his features before clearing his throat and mumbling a reply. Her phone rang again and after checking to see that it was Dean calling again, Max left it in her lap. John knew better than to ask her to answer it. Max had figured out pretty quickly that the quickest way to get Dean to stop picking on her was to not give him the reaction he was looking for. It was something John had tried to impress upon Sam to very little avail.

Once she was sure it had gone into voicemail though, Max checked and sure enough there was a message. She listened to it, sighed and rolled her eyes.

"There are not enough words in this world to describe what a jerk he's being," Max announced theatrically, all the while calmly setting the phone back down. She turned around in her seat after unbuckling, wrenched open the back window and casually stuck her hand out to give Dean a very familiar one finger salute.

John's lips twitched as he checked in his side mirror to see Dean returning the favor. He shook his head as Max buckled up again. The phone rang again immediately but Max ignored it.

He glanced at the mirror again to see that this time it was Sammy frantically, politely, saluting them. "Better answer that, it's Sam," he instructed.

"Probably with a message from Dean," Max sighed, though she did as she was bade. "What?" she snapped again. She listened as Sam spoke rapidly, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yeah I'm sorry that dumb ass put you in this position, but you're a grown boy Sammy. Nobody's putting a gun to your head." She listened again and then she laughed. "Look Sam, just tell Dean that if he doesn't quit bugging me, I'm going to drug him, douse his sensitive anatomy with ice water, and take a picture of it…"

"… and show it to every single girl you ever come across," Sam dutifully recited to his brother. He waited for his older brother's reaction. True to form Dean snorted and shook his head.

"Yeah, like that'll happen," he scoffed. "You tell little missy that it'll be a cold day in hell before she's anywhere near my boys."

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. He didn't have to repeat it though, since Max heard it loud and clear. "Before you guys get going again," Sam interrupted his sister's rant, "can you ask Dad where we're going to stop? I'm hungry."

Sam listened and then shut the phone off. "Dad said that the next diner we hit, we'll stop."

Dean nodded and then turned contemplative eyes upon his brother. "So," he began conversationally, "since you and Dad have put the kibosh on my fun this morning, why don't you tell me what it is you've been hiding away in your duffel?"

Sam stared at his brother, trying to keep his expression calm. "I haven't been hiding anything," he denied. Dean scoffed.

"Right," he drawled. "And I'm the friggin' tooth fairy. You have so been hiding crap. In a manila envelope. Come on Sam, we've all seen the damn thing. What's in it?"

"If everybody's seen it, then how have I been hiding it?" Sam demanded with a smile. "And putting it in my bag doesn't count. That's packing."

"Well, seeing as how every time someone got within ten feet of your precious envelope, you'd disappear and 'pack' it away."

"And?" Sam stalled. He should have realized that his brother probably had an inkling that something was up.

"I want to know what's in there," Dean informed him slowly. He grinned in answer to the smile his brother still wore. "Come on Sam, what is it? Blackmail pictures of Dad? Sweet love letters from a damsel in distress? Or is it-?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you have an overactive imagination?" Sam sputtered through a short laugh.

"Yes they have," Dean confirmed with a manly, yet self-satisfied smirk. "And believe me that imagination comes in extremely handy."

"Argh!" Sam groaned, thumping his head upon the back seat rest. "I don't want to hear about your sex life."

"Well you got to hear it from somewhere bro," Dean sassed. "Because yours is from what I can see, sadly lacking."

"Something I can live with," Sam murmured. But unfortunately, that can of worms was not enough to deter Dean from his curiosity.

So which is it?" Dean tried again.

"Which what?"

"Don't play dumb with me," Dean growled playfully. "Remember, I know your I.Q." He paused, his next words a little more quiet. "You know, the thing that you obviously felt more comfortable telling our adopted sister than you did your own big brother."

Sam stared at his brother, unbelieving that he'd actually heard the pain and jealousy in the older man's tones. He couldn't believe that Dean was… hurt over this. "I didn't tell Max anything," he corrected softly.

"Really?" Dean scoffed disbelievingly. "So what was with all the pointed looks and silent communications?"

Sam sighed, wondering how much his brother was going to force out of him. He wouldn't even put it past Dean to pull the car over and wrestle the truth out of him. "Look, Max found out one little thing and came up with some ideas. I haven't said anything because I wanted to talk to Dad about it first."

"Oh," was his brother's soft reply. There was silence in the car for a little while.

"It's not anything bad Dean," Sam tried to assure his brother. "If it was, do you really think I'd leave you out of the loop?"

"Nah," Dean grinned, though it seemed to Sam that it was forced. "It's just strange, you know. Ever since you were little, you told me everything. There were never any secrets we kept from each other."

"Believe me, I know," Sam chuckled. "I gave you enough dirt on me to scare off every potential girlfriend I could ever find for two lifetimes over."

"Now would I do that?" Dean smirked. Sam was just glad that things were back to their usual relationship.

"Penny Seifert dude, that's all I have to say."

Dean had to think for a moment. "Oh yeah! Pigtail headed Penny."

"She didn't always wear pigtails Dean."

"Every time I saw her, she was," Dean laughed. "Man, that was the only way you could tell she was a chick." Suddenly he snapped his fingers. "Oh, I got it. Call Max up and tell her that if she even dares to try and carry out that last threat, I'll tell every guy that she meets that she's… oh hell, what's the word?"

Sam narrowed his eyes. They had been talking about Penny looking more like a guy… "Androgynous?" he asked.

Dean spared him a quick grin. "Is that where the kid has both body parts?"

"No that's hermaphroditic," Sam grimaced.

"Yeah," Dean snapped his fingers. "I'll tell them all she's a hermaphrodite and that she's just saving up enough money to get her wee willy lopped off."

"Dude!" Sam protested. "You're sick!"

He may have been sick, but at least it passed the time until they pulled in after John's truck to, as promised, the first diner their father saw.

Tonight was the night, Sam decided as he saw the camaraderie with which his family was engaged in. Dean and Max, who'd both eaten a boatload of food, were now fighting over who got the last slice of apple pie in the place. The waitress was kind of enough to try and point out the other selections and by some grace, there was a slice of cherry that caught his sister's attention. His father was leaning back in the booth, sated from his own dinner.

Unconsciously, Sam's fingers were rubbing along the pocket seam of the jacket nestled behind him. The letter, he still couldn't believe that Stanford had accepted him, was resting inside. Though slight of weight, it had been weighing heavily on his mind since the moment he'd received it.

"So are you ever going to come right out and say it?" John interrupted his thoughts, a bemused look upon his face. It was enough to startle Sam out of his reverie.

"What?" he demanded in surprise. Max and Dean exchanged glances and immediately stopped their squabbling. Now they were both leaning forward, though Max had turned so that she could see Sam, whom she was sitting beside.

"Oh don't act so surprised," John huffed, waving one hand slightly. "You've barely talked at all tonight, you've been picking at your coat every few minutes. You've been staring at us all when you think we haven't noticed."

"Do we finally get to learn that deep dark secret you've been hiding?" Dean teased.

"I guess so," Sam breathed out on a sigh. A glance darted in Max's direction bolstered his suddenly flagging spirits. If only he knew for sure how his father and brother would react, then he would know how to handle this. Pulling his jacket around, he withdrew the heavy envelope that held his future.

"Dude!" Dean protested. "That's it! Another envelope. That's lame."

Sam laughed huskily, thankful that his brother's impatience served to break the tension. "It's not what it is, but who it's from," Sam instructed him quietly.

John reached out slowly and turned the envelope to face him. He read the return address and whatever fear he had in him seemed to evaporate. It made Sam wonder what had passed through his father's mind. "Stanford?" he questioned. Sam nodded.

"I uh, I applied there and a couple other places," he explained. Then with a sheepish grin, told everyone, "that's what was in the other envelope. All the brochures and stuff."

"Well, what does it say?" Dean demanded, his eyes also bright. Sam could literally see the waves of pride aching to burst forth.

"I got in," Sam replied softly, his eyes back on his father. The complete joy that transformed the older man's face was an amazing sight to behold. It went from disbelief to pride to something that Sam could honestly say that he'd never seen on his father's face when aimed in his direction.

"Sammy!" John exclaimed. He pulled himself out of the booth his arms reaching for his son. Stunned, Sam felt the sharp nudge of Max's elbow in his side and he stood to meet the arms that wrapped around his shoulders. "My boy!" There followed some energetic thumping on his back and when Sam finally was let loose, he was stunned to see the hint of a tear in the corner of his father's eye. It was quickly dashed away as Dean took his father's place.

A quick hug and a murmured "I knew it. No way would some brainiac college turn my baby brother down."

Max just sat, smiling beatifically at them, but before John could question her restraint, the waitress chose that moment to appear, two plates of pie in her hands. John rounded on her and Sam could have sworn that his chest was puffed up like a proud peacock.

"My son got accepted to Stanford," he announced distinctly, just as if he were any other overly proud father. The waitress, who until those words had been uttered, was eying them suspiciously, transformed before them. She slid the two plates on the table and held out her hand to Sam.

"Oh that's wonderful," she crooned. "Congratulations! This deserves to be celebrated. Tell you what, dessert on the house, all around." They could hardly say no to that. The woman peeked around at Max and Dean. "And I'll bring you some ice cream for that pie. Got to do this up right."

As soon as she left, John, Dean and Sam resumed their seats. "This is what Max knew, isn't it?" Dean demanded, a grin still on his face.

"I am the one that picked up the letter dumb ass," she snorted through her own smile. "They don't send you fat letters like that to say 'rejected'."

Before another teasing argument could break out, Sam cleared his throat and his family dutifully turned their attention to him. "That's not all," he smiled. "Um, what I didn't tell Max was, well, they not only accepted me, they've offered me a scholarship."

John's eyes widened at that announcement and he scrambled to pick up the letter. Pulling it from its moorings, his eyes quickly swept over the initial page, confirming for himself that Sammy was correct. The paper fluttered back to the table. "That's wonderful," he finally managed to get out.

"Oh Sammy," Max squealed, throwing her arms around his neck. "That is so awesome!"

"Yeah it is!" Dean concurred. The family continued their outbursts of happiness and appreciation until the waitress brought back more dessert. John chose from the tray another slice of pie, but declined the ice cream. For Sam, she'd brought out a large slice of chocolate cake on which someone had hurriedly piped in the word 'Congrats' in whipped cream. Sam graciously thanked her and the family settled in to eating.

Finished before the others, John leaned back in his seat and wiped his mouth with the paper napkin. He sighed contentedly and stared at Sam. The young man, wondering if he had whipped cream somewhere embarrassing on his face, hurriedly swiped his hand down his chin. "What?" he demanded with a laugh.

"Nothing," John just shrugged. "It's just… this is a good thing Sammy. A good dream to have. Something in the future to look forward to."

And despite the warmth of the restaurant, the happy sounds of people chattering around them, the general air at their table of contentment, Sam felt a chill shiver run up his spine.

The next morning found both John and Dean up early. After tossing and turning most of the night, Sam had finally fallen into slumber towards dawn, a fact not missed by the other members of his family. And so they had by mutual unspoken consent, decided to let him sleep in. Max was padding softly around the room, wondering what her father and brother were up to.

When John finally re-entered the room, he motioned Max over to him and informed the girl that Dean needed to talk to her. She found him sitting on the hood of the Impala, a bright grin across his face. Recognizing immediately, that he was up to something, she approached him with a measure of caution.

"What's the matter?" he demanded brightly, knowing exactly where her train of thoughts led.

"You've got that look," Max scowled. Dean chuckled and motioned for her to join him. Max came in as close as she dared and leaned one hip against the car.

"I've got a favor to ask," Dean began honestly. Max quirked an eyebrow up. "Can you keep Sammy busy this morning?"

"Why and what's in it for me?" Max demanded swiftly.

"'Cause I asked you to and the satisfaction of knowing that I'll owe you one," Dean answered just as quickly, placing his hand on his chest in a cheeky 'heartfelt' gesture.

"Tell me, or I'll blow the whistle on you," Max grinned. She loved having her big brother in this position. Dean regarded her seriously for a moment, but his face broke out in smiles again. It wasn't that big a secret. Just one to be kept from Sammy for a little while. He gestured her in closer.

"Dad and I want to get something for Sammy," he informed her. "You know, to celebrate this school crap. But it's gonna take a little time to do, hence the distraction."

"Well why didn't you just say so," Max rolled her eyes. "What do you want me to do specifically?"

"Well," Dean scooted closer to his sister as he began to fill her in on the details. "We found the place we want. It's over in Oklahoma City. So we're going to head up that way today. When we get there, we'll split up to do some shopping. Just keep Sam with you until we're done. I'll call you and then we can meet up. Okay?"

Max shrugged her shoulder. "Easy peasey," she confirmed. "Um?"

"What?" Dean asked as he began to carefully scoot off the car.

"Does this mean I should get him something too?"

Dean looked thoughtful for a moment. "If you want to you can. What Dad and I are doing is kind of a, well no offense, but it's a Winchester thing."

Max smirked at her brother. It certainly didn't hurt her feelings to point out that she wasn't blood kin. They all were well aware of the fact. But now that meant she had to come up with something and she wasn't always the best at picking out gifts.

"Is there anything I shouldn't get him?" she asked easily, meaning what were John and Dean giving to him so that she wouldn't duplicate it. Dean also obviously caught her meaning.

"Just stay away from the store we go in and you should be fine," he instructed. Max nodded and followed her brother back into the motel room.

In less than an hour, they were on their way. Sam had protested until Dean pointed out that he could just as easily sleep in the car. They snagged some drive through breakfast and continued down the road. Max once again rode with John so that she could discuss gift ideas for Sam. Eventually, she decide that she'd just do some browsing in the shops Sam was interested in and then pick something out that caught his eye. John figured it was as good a plan as any.

They hit Oklahoma City in the early afternoon and once John figured out were they were going, found the shop they wanted was located in a mall. This suited their purposes well, since the family wouldn't get too separated. Especially since they hadn't chosen a motel yet as a rendezvous point.

Dean pulled the Impala into the empty spot beside his father as Sam looked around.

"What are we doing here?" he demanded of his brother, Dean seemed absorbed in shutting off the car and gathering his essentials.

"Max needs some stuff," Dean answered distractedly. "And I wanted to get a new belt. Mine's starting to get worn through. So Dad figured we'd stop and do some shopping. Didn't he tell you?"

Sam thought about it for a minute. Maybe Dad had said something. He'd been pretty out of it that morning. He sighed and mentally shrugged. It wasn't hurting anything to stop. "I suppose I should get some more socks."

"Well if you'd trim your toenails once in a while Sammy," Dean taunted, "then maybe you wouldn't go through them so quick."

"Ha ha Dean," Sam retorted softly as he clambered out of the car. He stretched his long frame and smiled as his sister rounded the car.

"Come on," she grinned, grabbing hold of his jacket and tugging at it. "Let's go."

"What's the rush?" Sam whined, deliberately dragging his feet.

"Tacos!" Max told him triumphantly. "I'm starved and they've got a taco place here."

Sam glanced at his watch. He was only mildly hungry, but he was thirsty. "Okay," he conceded and followed after her. Tacos didn't sound too bad. But after three steps or so, he noticed that Dean and his Dad weren't following. He halted Max and turned back. "You guys coming?"

Dean grimaced and rubbed one hand against his stomach. "Those little McEgg craps aren't sitting pretty right now bro. I'm gonna pass."

Sam turned to his father. "I'm not hungry yet. You two go ahead. Just meet us back at the food court in three hours."

"Yes sir!" Max and Sam chimed together and once again Max was dragging Sam off.

"And don't turn your cell phones off!" John called after them. "And call me if there's trouble!"

"Yes sir!" they called again, totally unconcerned about their father's admonitions. Max was almost jogging in her haste. Sam chuckled as he reached for her arm.

"I think we're safe now," he told her.

"We were in danger?" she quipped back to him.

"Of being detained for an hour long safety lecture, of course," Sam snarked happily. Max giggled and slowed to a more sedate pace.

After the pair ate, they took their time ambling through the mall, seeing what it had to offer. Max had convinced Sam to go into a shop with her and help her pick out some new boots. He gave a fairly indifferent opinion on everything she tried on and she finally settled on picking out her own without help from him.

In the time they had left, they managed to hit the book store, a music store and an electronics store. It was there that Max felt inspiration come upon her. Noting the time, she pointed out to Sam that they only had a few minutes before they were supposed to meet John and Dean. Reluctantly, he pulled himself away from the displays and they headed out. Halfway down to the food court, Max stopped near the restrooms.

"Go ahead," she instructed. "I need to make a little stop."

"It's okay," Sam grinned, seeing what she was referring to. "I can wait."

"I'm a big girl Sammy," she grinned. "Don't need you to hold my hand."

"Yeah, but I might need you to hold mine while Dad kicks my butt for leaving you alone."

Max snorted out a laugh and then pulled out her cell phone. She dialed her father's number and waited for him to pick up.

"Yeah Max?"

"Hey Dad," she smiled, glancing up at Sam. "We're on our way to the food court."

"Sam still with you?"

"Yeah, he's right here," she answered honestly. "We've been together the whole time."

"Did you find something you want to get him?"

"Yep I did?"

"Were you able to get it, or do you need to go back for it?" John asked and then answered for himself. "Scratch that, you probably need to go back for it. Right?"

"Yes sir," she answered softly.

"Okay," John decided rapidly. "Tell him to wait there. We'll come to him. Dean wants to show off the belt buckle he wants to get. We'll distract him and you can slip back and get whatever it is. Will you need to stash it in the truck?"

"Yeah, I should probably do that," she chuckled. Sam was glancing impatiently down towards the food court.

"All right, we'll give you time," John laughed as well. "See you in a few."

Max hung up her phone and stashed it back in the pocket of her jean jacket. "Dad and Dean are meeting us here," she informed her brother. "And I really need to pee."

Sam just shook his head and leaned back against the wall, scanning the crowd for two familiar faces. Max hurried down the short hallway and rounded the corner. She turned and watched from her slight vantage point. Soon enough Dean and John had arrived and she watched as Dean dragged his brother off. John called something out after them. Max hurried, but was careful to make sure that Sam's back was still turned away from her.

"All clear," John whispered. "Meet me at the food court. Go. Go!"

Max dashed towards her intended store and as quickly as possible bought the items that Sam had been interested in. Using as much speed as she possibly dared, she hurried out to the truck, stashed the large items behind the seats, locked up and made it back to the food court where John was waiting with a nice cold soda for her. She was just in time too, since Dean and Sam had just rounded the corner and immediately saw them.

The three conspirators shared triumphant grins while Sammy seemed completely oblivious to it all.

As per John's instructions, Dean and Sam led the way to find a motel room for the night. Not caring either way, Dean had pulled into the first motel he found and discovered that there were a few vacancies. They weren't able to get another with kitchenette as they had the past few places they'd stayed. But they did get a double suite. After furnishing yet another fake credit card, he and Sam proceeded to unload their gear.

A hasty phone call to his father to let him know their location let Dean know that John and Max had found a place to gift wrap the gift Max had purchased. Ostensibly, he could tell Sam that they were picking up take-out and would be there soon.

And not half an hour later, the pair pulled into the motel. Dean met them at the door, taking the food and conveying it to the small table. Max jerked her head towards the truck and Dean easily took the hint. Outside, he found a pile of things still in the cab of the truck. Max's hands had been full of her purchases and her duffel bag. She'd left behind the soda, Sam's present and obviously what she wanted him outside for. On top of the present was an open card, with a pen laying across it.

"I felt kind of silly," Max chuckled from behind him. "You know, being the only one with a present."

"Why is it silly?" Dean smiled at her. "Ours just won't be ready for a while."

"Yeah, but Sammy would be hurt if I got him something and you guys blew it off," Max pointed out reasonably. "So Dad and I decided that this can be from all of us and when your present is ready, just explain what happened."

Dean mulled that over and couldn't see anything wrong with it.

"Besides which," Max continued, "I will be more than happy to take full credit for picking this out."

"What is it?" Dean asked as he signed his name to the congratulatory card that surely Max had picked out. His father inelegant scrawl was already there, under Max's.

"You'll see," she replied softly, reaching around him to grab the bag of drinks. "Can you carry it in? And don't drop it!"

"Yes ma'am," Dean quipped even as he hefted the moderately weighted box in his arms.

Sam was waiting impatiently for his siblings to come in so that they could eat. He'd indulged in one taco with Max earlier and was feeling as if his stomach thought his throat had been cut. But John had admonished him to wait, so wait he did. He certainly didn't expect to see them come back in with a gift.

A confused apprehension filled him as he wondered if he'd forgotten some special anniversary, but nothing came to mind. When Dean set the gift before him and he caught his own name on the card envelope, the confusion cleared. In its place a curious lump formed in his throat. He glanced up at the expectant faces, waiting for his reaction.

He picked up the card and slid out the card emblazoned with words of congratulations. Flipping it open he read the typed note inside, as well as the three signatures beneath. The lump grew a little wider.

"You guys didn't have to do this," he told them softly.

"You should always open the gift before you say that Sammy," Dean teased. "'Cause maybe we really shouldn't have."

Sam smiled ruefully at his brother and laid the card on the table. Taking a small quick breath, he reached for the expertly wrapped gift. He wasn't sure when they had done this, aside from it being some time today. He knew John hadn't wrapped it, for the corners were not crisply creased. And it wasn't Dean, since there wasn't a multitude of tape everywhere. And that left Max, though this was way neater than her last attempt.

With the first tear and familiar words catching his eyes, excitement filled the young man.

"You guys got me a laptop!" he exclaimed, a mixture of disbelief and excitement tingeing his voice. There were appreciative chuckles as he pulled the electronic accouterments he'd been drooling over, from the rest of the wrapping paper. "Oh man," he continued, checking it over. "I was just looking at this today."

"We know," Max grinned. Sam glanced up at her as understanding dawned on his face.

"That's why you were dragging me into all those different stores," he smiled. Then he turned to his brother. "And that's why you took me to that store to show me that god awful belt buckle. So Max and Dad could get this."

"It wasn't god awful," Dean laughed. "Dude, it was classy."

"It was a rhinestone encrusted cowboy boot the size of the state of Texas!" Sam protested, a huge grin on his face. Even as he teased his brother, his fingers were busy trying to peel the safety tape from the box. John simply pulled out his pocket knife and helped.

"Yeah, but it was classy," Dean protested.

"It was fugly!" Sam retorted. "I nearly went blind looking at it."

"Maybe that was the whole point," Max joined in. "That much bling was bound to stun the ladies into insensibility." She glanced at her eldest brother. "Sort of Dean's version of the caveman's old 'knock the lady out cold and drag her off to his den of iniquities' type thing."

"Ha!" Dean snorted as he moved the wrapping paper from the table and reached for one of the boxes of take-out. "You guys never have appreciated the subtlety in which I work my charms."

"There's nothing subtle about it son," John laughed as Sam pushed his hands out of the way so that he could get at the computer. He clicked his knife shut and pushed it back into his pocket. "Flash a big old' smile, tell her how pretty she is and how lonely you've been and they're a puddle of goo."

Dean shook his head. "Nobody ever appreciates me," he whined. He took a bite of the concoction in the box while he leaned towards his brother, who was currently going over the user's manual.

"Hey, get that away from her," Sam protested, shoving his brother's shoulder. Dean gave him a blank look and Sam gestured at the laptop. "I don't want you spilling your crud on her!"

Dean, in typical fashion made a great show of almost dropping food on the precious new gift until finally John cuffed him lightly on the back of his head. "Looks like Sammy's finally found his baby," he commented with a wry grin at his sister.

"Looks like," she agreed mildly.

Sam, still studying the manual, glanced up and took in their happy faces. They were pleased because he was pleased. "This is just… so awesome," he murmured, then carefully set the manual down. "Thanks you guys!"

There was a chorus of you're welcomes and Sam resumed his seat to keep reading. Dean pushed some of the food his brother's way and snorted to himself as Sam was very careful to keep the food away from his new toy. John and Max each took some food and found perches on the beds. There was little silence as they talked over their day and Max pulled out the boots she'd chosen to show them.

Soon talk turned to the next hunt they would be going on. John had received some information about another spirit haunting in the Hot Springs National Park over in Arkansas. The info was spotty at best and Sam happily piped up that once he had everything installed, hooked up and taken care of, he'd be able to surf the 'net to find out more information. John looked pleased at that, until something troubling crossed his face.

"Maybe the first thing you'd better do is send a letter to Stanford," he commented quietly. Sam glanced at him, puzzled and then his face suddenly cleared.

"Oh yeah," he muttered.

"I mean, I don't know the correct protocol for this," John continued. He took a bite of his meal and chewed thoughtfully. "Maybe just let them know that you're really honored about the scholarship, but you just can't accept it at this time."

"What?" Sammy voice was deadly quiet, his face stern as he tried to integrate what his father was telling him.

"Yeah," Dean chimed in. "Just make sure to word it politely. Don't want them to think you're ungrateful."

"I'm not ungrateful," Sammy replied quietly. His glance flew back and forth between his father, Dean and Max, but his sister seemed to be just as puzzled by this turn of conversation as he was.

"Maybe you can tell them too that you'll reapply down the road," John mused thoughtfully. "They admitted you once; I can't see why they wouldn't later."

"But why would I…?" Sammy trailed off.

"I don't know how long it will be," John admitted softly. "We've been hunting for this demon for a long damn time." He paused, his eyes unfocused on anything in the room. "But as soon as we find the bastard and make it pay…"

"Then it'll be school time for Sammy," Dean finished happily, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrents emanating from his little brother.

John turned back to his younger son. "So it's probably better that you get that taken care of as soon as possible," he instructed. "They'll probably want to award that scholarship to the next most deserving person, right?"

"Right," Sammy whispered, swallowing heavily around the lump in his throat.

The first of many fights between father and son broke out the next morning. Sam had stayed up late, tinkering with the laptop. John had simply asked him if he'd sent the email to the school and Sam replied that he hadn't. It touched off a small fight about responsibilities. John was of the opinion that the sooner he took care of this matter, the better. Sam seemed to want to hold onto this dream just a little longer.

The next fight wasn't over the laptop, or school, it was Sam picking a fight with his father because he never let any of the kids go out of sight for more than ten seconds. They all knew that it wasn't true, at least not to the extreme that Sam was taking it. But Sam seemed to have the need to rail at his father for something. The shouting had gotten on Max's nerves and she'd ducked out of the hotel room, thus proving Sam's point when John went immediately after her.

They managed to restrain themselves for another two days, until they figured out the spirit they were hunting for in Arkansas. This time, Dean and Max were drawn into the fight. Dean was right there with his father, wanting to just hunt down the spirits bones, salt and burn them. But as Max and Sam pointed out, that could take a long time, since the grave wasn't marked and Sam had discovered an Indian ritual that might prove to be more effective. It ended as the two parties went their separate ways.

From then on, it seemed to escalate, where they couldn't get through one day without the two stubborn mules arguing about something. It was putting an extreme strain upon the family and Dean and Max were faring the worst from it. If they only could have understood what Sam was so upset about, it would have made things easier in their opinion, to deal with.

It wasn't until Max noticed that Sam had composed the required letter to Stanford. He sat staring at the screen for a long while. And then, with one sweep of a long finger, destroyed the letter from existence. As soon as she told Dean about it, they understood. Sam wanted to go. He wanted to leave them. To say that Dean was hurt was an understatement. But like the good big brother he was, he put his own feelings aside and demanded to know what was up with his brother.

Max and John weren't privy to that conversation, but Dean came out of it feeling a little more sympathetic to Sammy's position. But at the same time, he still wholeheartedly supported his father's stance. The demon that had struck their family so many years ago was still out there, not to mention all the other spirits and letting Sammy go away from them was not acceptable. Even Sam's half-formed plan of the family settling down around Palo Alto like they did when he was younger, in Geraldine, was not acceptable.

Something that they'd all noticed, but never seemed to speak of, was that supernatural occurrences seemed to be on the rise. They barely had time anymore between hunts. There was always something else occurring and John was relentless in his drive to save as many people as he could.

So the days continued on and the fights tapered off. But the silence in which the group lived was putting more strain on them than anyone could have believed possible. Sam refused to ride with John. John refused to let Sam ride with Max on her motorcycle, since he felt it was bad enough that she was still riding it. Max understood that John feared that Sam just might subvert her since she appeared the most sympathetic to Sam's cause. Dean was torn between following his father's directions and protecting his brother.

Finally, two weeks after the very first fight between father and son, a call came in to Dean's cell phone. It was one he'd been expecting and one he wanted to deal with immediately. After gaining permission from his father, Dean got ready to leave. John headed out before he did, to do some more solitary research. Dean noticed all right that there was interest in what he was up to from Sam and Max. But when he told them that he'd join up with them again in a few days, there was outright indignation from Sam.

Why now, after all of John's rantings, was Dean allowed to leave? Maybe it was because Dean was going to pick up something they needed. Could Sam go? No. What was so important that Dean needed to leave immediately for? None of Sammy's business. What were they going to do in the meantime while they waited for him? Dean didn't really care at that second.

As the eldest Winchester child stepped to the door, he glanced back at his quiet siblings. An idea formed in his mind, one that he knew might backfire heavily on him, but it was the only thing he could think of to do. "Max!" he called. The girl glanced up, her face questioning. "Get your stuff."

Max turned shocked eyed to Sam, who immediately understood what Dean's game plan was.

"Taking her with you is not gonna make me talk to Dad," Sam ground out.

"Maybe not Sammy," Dean sighed, shifting his bag from one hand to the other. "But something's gotta give and as long as Max and I are around playing referee, it ain't gonna happen." He turned to his sister once more. "So let's go."

Max bit at her lower lip. She knew that what Dean was saying was the absolute truth. But that didn't mean that she liked it. But again, she just didn't see how they could go on with all this tension and bad feelings. Maybe Dean's way was the best. Decided, she jumped up, grabbed her bag and hurriedly stuffed her belongings that had come loose, into it. She knew that if there was anything she had forgotten that John or Sam would grab it. She made sure that she had her keys, her phone, her wallet and that her tryptophan was securely in her bag and then followed her oldest brother out of the room.

Sam sat, dumbfounded, watching them leave, with only a whispered goodbye trailing in the air behind them.

"All right!" Dean crowed as he took back the receipt that the pretty red-headed cashier handed him, along with a not so covert slip of paper with her phone number on it. The tension that they'd been living with the past few weeks had been abated with his and Max's abrupt departure from the scene. The last day had been spent driving, teasing, laughing over jokes, fighting over music and just generally relaxing.

Dean had let his father know immediately that he'd taken Max with him and aside from an angry grunt at his son's presumptiveness; there was only a warning about the pair being even more careful. An adult male traveling with an underage girl didn't look right at first sight, especially when the pair didn't have obvious familial connections. Dean hadn't worried over it too much because their good natured bickering wherever they went and Max's obvious affection for him told most outsider's that the relationship was in some way, okay.

"You ready to go Max?" Dean questioned as he slipped the small box into his jacket pocket. He turned his head, but his sister was no longer at his side. He wondered where she had slipped off to. "Max?" He turned around completely; glad to catch sight of her at another counter. Where some creepy middle-aged dude was holding her hand. Dean's brow furrowed and his lips thinned, pressed together harshly as he took in his baby sister leaning in to hear what the old fogy was saying. With determined strides, he made his way over to him, completely forgetting about the red head he had just been flirting with.

"And you can see, can't you," the old geezer was saying, "the identical cuts of each diamond? Which is why this is a premier piece of our newest collection."

"It's gorgeous!" Max enthused. She also happened to notice her brother storming over to them. She leaned back, though not enough to encourage the salesman to let go of her hand. "Look Dean!"

He glanced down once at the diamond bracelet adorning her wrist, the pink tinged jewels winked in the light as the silver setting gleamed. "Yeah, pretty," he commented in a monotone. "Come on, it's time to go."

"Oh," Max pouted as prettily as she could. "Armando was just teaching me about diamonds."

Good old Armando beamed up at Dean. "Yes, quite," he spoke in a slightly lisping tone. "You know what they say," he paused and let out a slight giggle. "Diamonds are a ladies best friend."

"Yeah," Dean snorted as he tried to pull Max's hand away. "Maybe when she graduates out of the tomboy teenager phase, then she'll be ready for that." He was aware of Max's eyes twinkling as she regarded him, but it did little to dissuade him that he needed to get her away from this smooth talking fop. He felt her tugging her hand away and with ease, once she had it loose, had removed the diamond bracelet and handed it back to Armando. She sighed as she watched the man expertly replace it in its box and bend over to return it to the locked display case. Dean caught her arm and began to tug on it, eager to get her away from the flirtatious fogy, for reasons he didn't care to examine to deeply.

"Sorry about him," Max chuckled, catching Armando's eye again. The man just waved one long finger at her.

"Nonsense," he smiled. "I never regret imparting my knowledge. Now, don't forget what I taught you about the all important C's when shopping for diamonds." His hand dipped smoothly into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and extracted a card. He held it out to Dean. "And if you're ever in the market, please, do think of me."

Dean stared at the card, one eyebrow raised, until Max stepped in and took the card with a grin. Dean never saw the wink that passed between them, just eager to get on his way again.

They left the store, once again retracing the path taken two weeks prior when Dean and John had been shopping for Sam's gift. Dean heard his sister giggling and was a little miffed that she found something, most likely something he had said or done, to be funny.

"What?" he demanded, slightly irritable at not being in on whatever was causing her so much humor.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing," Max replied. Dean grunted and continued walking. Max caught up after a moment and tugged on his sleeve. He glanced down at her, his strides never failing. "Dean? Were you… jealous?"

The word exploded in his brain as horrified eyes widened and stared down at the little imp who was his sister. The one who had just stopped him dead in his tracks. "Wha-?" he demanded, slack-jawed. "Jealous of what?" He closed his eyes and tried to focus. When he opened them, he'd regained a measure of control.

"'Cause he wasn't flirting with me," Max continued, her lips twitching, trying not to smile.

"Yes he was," Dean argued, scowling again as he recalled _Armando_ rubbing his fingers allover Max's hand. Caressing her. Lisping at her. He shivered in mild disgust.

"Actually," Max drawled, pulling out the card that the salesman had given her. "I do believe he was more interested in you than in me."

"What!" the words penetrated Dean's brain and finally Max let loose her guffaws. She pressed the card into her brother's hand.

"Yes, he said something about the handsome young stud who was chatting up Andrea and I happened to mention that that was my brother and he started pumping me for information and I told him that as far as I knew, you didn't swing that way, but he thought that he had some mighty fine powers of persuasion…"

Dean tuned her out as the phrase Armando had used floated through his mind once more '_if you're ever in the market…'_ And he obviously wasn't talking about jewelry. Feeling his face flame, Dean dropped the card as if it were a snake.

"Oh my God!"

His bewilderment only caused Max to laugh harder. Dean spared a harrowing glance at the business card on the ground and then grabbed his sister's arm once more. "Let's get the hell out of here."

"Oh Dean," she pouted mockingly. "I think Armando has more class than to run after you through a mall."

"I wouldn't put anything past that old …"he glanced down at her, biting off the term he was going to use as he realized it probably wasn't suitable for her ears.

Max, noticing the red tinge of embarrassment around her brother's ears, decided to be kind and let the matter drop. "So what are the plans now?" she demanded as Dean finally let loose her arm.

"We'll head back to the motel, maybe order a pizza and then head out tomorrow once we find out for sure where to meet Dad and Sammy," Dean decided. He knew Max already knew this, but was grateful that she was willing to be distracted.

They made it out to the car and Max didn't bother to wait for him to unlock her door, but did it herself with her spare key. As Dean started up the engine, Max reached for the jeweler's box that he had lain on the seat beside him.

"Can I?" she asked softly. Dean glanced down at the box and shrugged. Max took that for allowance. Carefully pulling the lid off, she stared down in surprise at the contents. She giggled and tilted the box to get a better view. "You got Sam a ring?" she demanded. Somehow, she just didn't see her brother as a ring-wearer, unless it was a specific finger on the left hand. And even then she wasn't so sure.

"Not just any ring," Dean replied quietly, his attention seemingly on the traffic that flowed out of the mall parking lot. There was a long pause and Max waited for an explanation. "It was my mom's ring," he said finally.

"Your mom's?"

"Her wedding band," he clarified, carefully looking straight ahead.

"Oh," Max sighed softly, pursing her lips in thought. "I uh, I guess I just assumed that, well, that it was lost in the fire," she said in a rush. She chanced a glance at her stoic sibling.

Dean heard the sympathetic sorrow in her voice and had to swallow once before he could respond. "Not every thing was burned up," he told her quietly. "The firemen got there pretty quick, I guess." Max sat quietly, not knowing what to say next. Dean's voice took on a slow lilt as he recalled as best he was able those fateful moments and the days that followed. "A few days after the fire, Dad and Sam and I were at a motel. We weren't talking much. We kind of had our hands full taking care of Sammy, since he was only a baby. The fire marshal showed up at our door to talk to Dad about what they found out about the fire."

"They thought it was bad wiring, right?" Max interjected. Dean nodded.

"But Dad knew better," he continued. "Anyways, he, the marshal, said that they had managed to recover some stuff from the house. There were, uh, pictures, some of our clothes that had been in the basement, in the laundry. And mom's ring. They found it on the floor of Sammy's nursery. It was… really mangled. I guess the fire was hot enough to soften it and something fell on it…" his voice trailed off and Max felt her heart begin to thud as she considered what exactly that thing might have been.

Dean cleared his throat after a moment. "I remember Dad just… if the bed hadn't been right behind him; I think he would have fallen over. He had Sammy in his arms and after the marshal pulled the ring out, all he could do was stare at it."

"But he must have finally taken it, right?" Max pressed gently, but Dean shook his head.

"No. I took it," he recalled. "I don't know why. I think I remember feeling that I didn't want this guy touching my mom's ring. It was so special to her. She never, and I mean never took it off." He heaved a long sigh. "I've carried it ever since."

"Dad never wanted it back?" Max questioned softly. Dean gave a short derisive laugh.

"He could barely stand to look at it," Dean growled.

"But he agreed that you should give it to Sammy," Max pointed out.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "I told him that Mom would be so proud of Sam. That she'd want him to have something special to celebrate this. And truthfully, I've been thinking about this for a while."

"Why's that?"

"Well, I had four years with Mom," Dean pointed out reasonably. "Sam wouldn't know her from Eve if it weren't for pictures. I just thought that he should have a little something of hers." After finally getting that off his chest, Dean glanced at his sister and almost did a double take. His eyes snapped back to the road to make sure that he wasn't veering off course, even as his right hand left the steering wheel to grasp her hand. "Hey," he tried to soothe. "I didn't tell you this to make you cry."

"Oh it's not that," Max denied immediately, trying to wipe the tears away surreptitiously. "It's just…"

"Just what?"

"You're lucky," Max declared. "In a way," she hurried on at the frown on his face. "To at least have something of your moms." She sighed and glanced out her window. "I don't have anything…"

"Hey," Dean whispered. He nudged her hand and she glanced back at him as he pushed her fingers apart so that he could hold them loosely in his own. "You've got us, right?" Max slowly gave in to a half-smile that crept along her mouth.

"Yeah, and I'm a lucky kid," she muttered, and then gave a short laugh. Dean grinned as the moment passed, though he didn't let go of her hand. It was a comforting feeling, her slight hand in his own larger one. There was silence as Dean continued to drive, but it wasn't long before Max broke it once again.

"So your Mom's ring is pretty cool," she declared. "I like the style."

"Actually, it's different from what Mom wore," Dean informed her. "That's why it took so long. They had to melt it down and reshape it. Use a little more silver."

"And who paid for this masterpiece?" Max teased, wondering which credit card Dean had put it on. But he looked genuinely surprised as he answered.

"Me, I paid for it," he snorted. He softened under her quizzical gaze. He shrugged. "It just didn't feel right to, you know. And with the way Sammy feels about our scams…" he left off, knowing that Max was fully aware of Sam's moral high ground rants.

"Well I'm glad you changed it," Max chuckled. "I just couldn't see Sammy wearing a woman's ring."

"Do you really think I'd be so cruel?" Dean laughed. "I mean yeah, Sammy's effeminate, but that's just pushing things too far."

"Oh you would so," Max retorted. "If it were any other ring, you would. I think you changed the style so that Dad wouldn't hurt so much every time he saw it."

Her statement hung in the air between them for a moment and Dean absorbed what she had said. It was the exact reason. He turned to grace her with a wistful smile as he squeezed her hand. "You know me well kiddo."

With the windows rolled down, the whipping breeze rushing through their hair, Dean and Max were more relaxed than they'd been in a long time. Max let her eyelids rest at a fluttering half-mast as Dean completed the drive to meet up with their father and Sam. She'd written down the directions that John had given them the evening before when they'd called him, even though they weren't difficult. Dean had read them over once and was confidently now pulling into the motel that John had checked into under the name Don McMillan.

But even as the Impala rolled to a stop, they were instantly on alert as very familiar, very angry voices disturbed the air around them. The pair shared a glance as fissions of panic swept through them. The door to their family's room was ajar and they could hear Sammy shouting. But as they clambered out of the car, John's raised voice answered and their panic turned to resignment.

'_Not again,' _was the unspoken declaration they shared.

Max followed behind her brother, just on the off chance that it wasn't what they thought, but the scene that greeted them was so much more disturbing. John was standing at the foot of the bed, farthest from the door, facing off with his son, who stood at the head of the bed, throwing things in his duffel bag.

"… live with this obsession of yours any more!" Sam was yelling.

"This damn thing killed your mother!" John roared back. "And we have no idea why. We have no clue who it will hurt next. Samuel, it's not safe!"

Max heard Dean's indrawn breath. In the whole time that Max had lived with the Winchester's, she'd never heard John use Sam's full name like that. It didn't bode well.

"No!" Sam railed back, not even seeming to notice his sibling's entrance. "It killed your wife! She was only my mother for a few months and in eighteen years of life, that ain't much!"

The vituperous words stunned them all, Sam included. His eyes flickered away from his father, seeing the stunned hurt in his brother's face and then glancing guiltily down at the floor. But the words were said and he couldn't take them back. Recovering whatever determination that was giving strength to this latest episode, Sam gathered up the handles of his bag.

"I'm going!" he declared and pushed past his dumbfounded father. But as he made it to the doorway, where Max and Dean instinctively parted, John's strangled voice made him pause.

"If you walk out that door," John growled. "If you leave us… don't even think about coming back."

Max could see Sam's jaw clenching and unclenching as he was thrown the most damning of options. His head turned slightly to look, to plead silently with his brother. And Dean, still trying to process the anger, the hurt, couldn't give Sam what he needed. Without another glance around, Sam left.

Max watched forlornly as the family split apart. Sam had gotten no more than half a block away as she and Dean stood numbly in the doorway, when John shouldered past them, threw himself into his truck and pealed out, in the opposite direction.

She stared; fear gnawing in the pit of her stomach as Dean slowly sank to the floor. Nervously nibbling on the inside of her cheek, she knew that she couldn't stay still. Throwing herself towards the Impala, she impatiently yanked open the back door. She rifled through her pack and once she'd found what she wanted, slammed the car door shut and raced after her brother.

She caught up to him at the corner, softly calling his name. He paused and when she reached him, he refused to turn back. So she simply stepped around him, stunned to see the tears streaming freely down his face. Feeling the tears welling up in her own eyes, she stepped forward, her arms open in acceptance and Sam gratefully engulfed her with his larger frame.

"I'm sorry Maxie," he cried harshly.

"It's okay," she tried to soothe.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated. "But I have to go."

"I know," she responded, even though the words felt just plain wrong to her. It didn't feel right and went against everything she had hoped for. It went against all the feelings inside her about family staying together. But she also knew that she couldn't stop him. Sam was slowly dying, poisoned on the inside from his father's vendetta. "I know."

She pulled back from him and when Sam dared raise his eyes to meet hers, she smiled tremulously at him. She held out the wad of cash that she'd grabbed from her bag and offered it to him. Sam just stared down at it for a moment.

"Max," he whined softly. "I can't take this." He pushed her hand away.

"Yes you can," she told him sternly, pushing it back towards him. "Please Sam," she uttered, softening her tone. "I just need to know that you'll be okay. The semester doesn't start for a while and I really don't want to think about you starving in the street because you were too proud to take help from your baby sister."

That got a strangled laugh from him.

"It's all straight up winnings," she promised. "No scams." Still he hesitated. Max pulled his hand up and placed the money in it. "For me? Please?"

Finally his fingers closed around the cash. "Just for you," he agreed. Without bothering to count the amount, knowing by the feel of it that there was a lot there, Sam stuffed it into his pocket. His arms wrapped around Max's slight frame again as he pulled her in close for another hug. "You understand, right?" he whispered into her hair.

She didn't. But at the same time, she did and so she nodded, her throat too tight for words. When the moment and his arms eased from around her, she smiled bravely up at him. "Now," she sighed, "you know my number and I have yours. You promise to call me as soon as you're settled? So I know you're okay?"

"I will," Sam assured her." I promise." He glanced back at the direction they'd come from. "I have to go. The bus leaves…" Max nodded and Sam licked at suddenly dry lips. "Take care of them. Of Dad and Dean? And yourself of course."

"I will," Max vowed. She reached up on tiptoe to kiss her brother's cheek. "You go make us proud, okay?" Sam nodded once more and then slipped away.

Max watched him cross the street before she forced herself to turn around and head back to her other brother. The one that possibly needed her more right now than the hurting Sammy did. As she approached the motel, she was stunned to see Dean still hunched to the ground, in the doorway of their room.

She stepped carefully over his legs, and then crouched down beside him. She noticed immediately, the jeweler's box that must have slipped from suddenly nerveless fingers. She scooped it up and held it out to him.

"Dean, there's still time," she whispered, but Dean cut her off.

"It doesn't matter," he whispered back, not looking at all at her, but unfocused at the door frame opposite him.

"It does so," she snapped back, more harshly than she had intended. Her brother's eyes flashed angrily and he snatched the ring box from her hand and threw it across the room.

"It doesn't matter!" he yelled before he jerked his head away again.

Stunned, Max fell back, sitting completely. She had heard the dull thump of the box hitting the wall, but more was the small whimper of internal aching pain from her brother.

She crawled over to where the ring box had fallen. Thankfully, it wasn't damaged. She scooped it back up and returned to her brother. "It does matter Dean," she tried again. "It matters because he's still your brother. He's still your mother's son. No matter what, she loved him, just like you do. If you didn't, then his leaving wouldn't hurt you so bad."

"Max don't," Dean moaned.

Max pulled open the box and removed the ring from its nestled setting. "Everything you told me about your mom," she continued, holding the ring up. "And about this ring, one day you'll tell him." She sighed as he didn't respond. Suddenly inspired she grabbed his right hand, the one that only a day before, had held hers in sympathy, in caring and carefree and slowly slid the ring home. "And Dean, she's your mom too. She'd understand that you have the right to feel hurt about what Sammy did. She'd understand." Her brother's fist closed reflexively, feeling the new weight adorning it. "He's only gone if you let him go from your heart Dean," she whispered.

And at last she seemed to have reached him as he crumpled forward into her arms. It took every strength and every power she never knew existed inside her not to howl like a baby as her beloved older brother, her rock and the best friend she knew she could ever have, broke in her arms.


	23. Frayed Part One

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident although after the last chapter, I think people are getting suspicious…)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Twenty-three

Frayed

"No more listening to him snore all night," Dean sighed. He and Max were sitting, waiting for their father to return, in another little rundown motel, just outside of Nowheresville, Who-the-hell-cares-anymore. Dean had control of the remote, but reception was spotty at best. But still, idly, he flicked through the channels.

"No more being woken up from a sound sleep when he falls out of bed," Max replied, just as quietly. She sat on the couch, sideways, her knees drawn up to her chin, her arms wrapped around her legs loosely. Her eyes however were bright and took in everything. They flickered back and forth between the annoyance of the television screen and that of her older brother.

"No more being kicked in the shins while I'm sleeping," Dean muttered with a half-smile. Flick, he found another channel.

"Now it's being elbowed in the back by Dad," Max grinned, remembering Dean complaining of that just that morning. John had just grunted and shaken his head.

"No more fighting over the radio station," Dean continued, back to morose. Flick, another channel.

"Like you ever let him fight about that anyway," Max shrugged. "Remember, driver's rules and all that?"

"No more whining about getting to drive the car," Dean countered. His thumb paused on the remote, as something seemed to catch his interest, but it wasn't enough and the screen flickered again.

"At least we'll all fit in the car and if we have to, in the truck. Even though sitting on that stupid hump hurts like hell," Max pointed out. "In case of emergency, you know." Her brother's eyes flashed towards her, filled with a '_there's no way in hell I'll leave my baby behind and you know it'_ glance. The TV changed again.

"No more lame ass pranks to put up with," he muttered, distractedly leaning his head against the hand whose elbow rested on the arm of the sofa.

"So speaks the genius who believes that Nair was put on this earth simply to gratify his need to see his brother bald," Max chuckled. At least she got a grin out of him there. But it faded just as quickly as it had come. The television flickered a little more rapidly that time.

"No more geek babble over stupid, meaningless crap!" Dean said decisively, this time. Max quirked an eyebrow at him.

"If you really wanted me to, I could very easily fill in that gap," she smiled. Dean rolled his eyes and flicked through the channels again. Max was starting to get to the point where she was about to rip the remote out of his hands and throw it through a wall. And with the sly glance he threw her way, it let her know that Dean was fully aware of how annoying he was being. Almost as if he were trying to get a rise out of her, just so that she'd break, start throwing a tantrum, to which he could respond and thereby get his mind off of what was really troubling him. It was that, or go to a bar. And since John would throw a slightly more monumental than tantrum type fit if he left Max alone, that was out of the question.

"You know," Max pointed out calmly, gesturing to the television. "Since we're only getting three channels, I think you've seen everything that you're gonna see."

"Hope springs eternal," Dean grunted, smirking at her as he casually flicked through the channels again.

Max fought against returning his grin. His goal may have been to break her into distracting him, but hers was about breaking him down so he could get past this, if only in some small measure. Ever since Sam had left, Dean had alternated between long moments of solitude, pulling away from both John and Max and moments of pure unadulterated brashness when he was open to anything, if only to kick through the darkness surrounding them all like a death pall.

"So, no more…?" she prompted.

Dean rolled his head, neck and shoulders, trying to loosen up. It didn't really work. Finally, he clicked off the television and turned towards his sister. "This game sucks!" he stated emphatically.

"That's why we call it 'the sucky game'," Max reminded him.

"I thought we were calling it 'the reasons we're glad that Sam left game'," Dean countered, his voice going back to snarky.

"And are you really?" Max asked calmly. She already knew the answer, whether Dean would admit to it or not. He blew out an aggrieved sigh, but before he could even reach for it, Max had dodged forward from her position and snagged the remote before he could.

"Hey!" Dean yelped as her hand had landed in a slightly close to precarious place. "Hands off!"

"I don't think so," Max taunted, holding the small piece of equipment before her. Dean reached for it but she pulled it away from him. His eyes glittered warningly, but in true annoying little sister fashion, she did it again. Knowingly taking the bait again, Dean lunged for the remote and nearly had it. But Max, genetically engineered super soldier that she sort of was, was prepared for it. She was willing to sacrifice her position, especially in the face of helping her big brother get through something that she knew she probably wasn't handling much better than he was.

True, she'd already dealt with losing family members to them simply being elsewhere, away from her. But that didn't mean she had to like it happening all over again to her. At least in this case, she had a safety net to fall back into. Now if only she could get Dean and John to see it that way too. To see that just because there was suddenly a gaping hole in their family, didn't mean that they had to fall through it too.

With that in mind, Max scooted back, pushing herself up onto the arm of her end of the couch. Dean watched with amusement and some disbelief that she was goading him into this. But he also couldn't resist. Whether he was trying to prove that he was superior to her, able to outsmart her, or just giving into the distraction, he wasn't sure. And so he gave chase, not at all surprised when she rolled backwards off the couch to crouch on the floor, grinning up at him.

Older brother gave chase after little sister in a romp that took them through the very stifling motel room. He noted that she was wise enough to stay away from the bathroom, since he could corner her in there. She did make the appearance of feinting for it, but he didn't fall for her ruse. He did manage to catch her on the bed nearest the door, though he had the inkling that she had let him catch her.

He tackled her low, in the knees, bringing her down in her flight across the furniture, but she was already trying to twist out of his grip. Just as he was careful about where he grabbed her, she was also careful that her minute kicks wouldn't damage him. And then he heard her giggle. It was a refreshing sound. One that he hadn't really heard in a while. And while he had never been prone to giggling himself, Dean wanted to hear more of it. To that end, instead of manly trying to take the remote from her grasping hands, he set about wiling it away from her by debilitating her.

After a good fifteen minute tickle fight, they finally calmed somewhat, the remote lying forgotten on the floor. Dean's head was resting on Max's stomach as she lay stretched out, her head at the foot of the bed while her feet had scattered the pillows. Dean's feet were resting on the floor where his legs hung over the side. But neither felt inclined to move. Some, not all of their frustration and pain were dissipated and it felt good just to relax and not think about things for a while. Until that annoyed, slightly angry tone caught them by surprise.

"Just what the hell do you two think you're doing?"

John paid for the pizzas and drinks that he'd ordered. While waiting for them to bake, he'd sat at a table in the little pizzeria, looking over the file folder of information he'd been putting together. Another day, another hunt. It was the only thing that was keeping him going right now. Knowing that there was someone else out there that he could help, even if it felt like his own life was once again being flushed down the crapper.

His eyes flickered once again over the picture of the damn artifact that he'd finally managed to track down. He still had no clue as to what it really was. Stealthily, tortuously, the thought entered his brain. '_Sam could figure it out. Get on that newfangled computer of his and-' _ No. John knew he had to put the kibosh on those thoughts. Sam had made his choice and he had left. There was no use thinking about what could be, what should be. There was only the reality of the here and now.

And the truth was the reality was worse than what he'd imagined. Not only for himself. But for the kids too. John may not have wanted to acknowledge Sam right now, what this separation from his family could be doing to him, in both supernatural and natural courses, but he did need to face the toll it was taking on Dean and Max. For while Sam had made the choice to leave, they'd made the choice to stay. With John. And the elder Winchester knew that if they didn't suck it up and pull their heads out of the sand completely, then mistakes would be made. And that was fatal.

It was just, for those first few days after Sam had left, John couldn't calm down. He couldn't get past the hurt of Sam's words, his verbal rant pretty much spitting on his mother's memory. He thought sometimes that he could get past anything. But not Sammy disrespecting the mother that had died for him. It wasn't until he was confronted with the physical evidence of Dean's fears that he knew he had to pull himself together.

Just days after Sam left, John had pulled the kids along with him to a new town. He'd signed them in at a motel, had dumped his bags on the bed that he and Dean would share and then taken off to the local bar.

He'd returned, not drunk, but not entirely sober, to find his bed with no cover, flat sheets and only one pillow. Quick glance told him precisely where his son was. Curled around his little sister, back to the door, protecting her from whatever the hell might be coming their way.

There was nothing lewd about the scene, though at first description as he'd just put it, some people might have thought so. But upon closer inspection, John had seen what must have happened. Max, in her bed, Dean in his. Dean had probably waited until Max was asleep, then pulled the comforter from his bed and pillows and joined his sister. It was obvious once you took in the fact that Max was completely under her sheets and bedspread and Dean's was half laying on the floor and John could see his feet sticking out, on top of the primary covers.

He began to watch them after that, on the sly, though he had the notion that Max knew. For the longest time, when they were younger, before Max had come into their lives, Dean was all about protecting his younger brother. When Max came along, the attention was split. Not completely in half, it seemed to depend more on what was happening around them. Some of Dean's drive to protect was instinctive, in putting family first. Some of it was instinctive in protecting the fragile female, though Max was anything but. Still, his son wouldn't see it that way. It was just Dean's basic response to different threats. If something threatened Sam, he protected Sam. If something threatened Max, he protected Max. John had the humorous thought that if both Sam and Max were in imminent danger, Dean would find some way to tear himself in half if he had to, to protect them both.

And now it seemed, with Sammy gone, all of Dean's intense big brother ways had settled on Max. But instead of protesting or bucking the mantle of the youngest, need to be protected status, Max was allowing it. Like she sensed that Dean needed to do this in order to keep functioning. But only at first. After a few days of enduring Dean's mother henning ways, she began what seemed to John a very carefully designed course of protest. It was always over little things, stuff that she normally wouldn't put up with. Things that John knew that Dean was also well aware of. To him, it was like Dean and Max were restructuring their boundaries, filling in the empty hole where Sammy used to be.

And if he was honest with himself, he was jealous.

He wanted in. He wanted to be part of that protective circle they set up with each other, instead of being the one that circled around on high alert. But he knew that wouldn't happen. Whether it was because he never gave any sign of it, or because they harbored some anger at him for forcing Sammy away… Well, he knew they didn't actively think like that. Dean had made enough comments to know that his son's anger was placed mostly at the heels of the one who'd left. But he was a smart enough man to know that Dean wasn't happy with his old man either

But at least for now, they were dealing, if in their own way. And he was dealing in his. Another day, another hunt. Just keep working, just keep moving and things would eventually work themselves out. Of course, that didn't stop him from calling a few old friends in the Palo Alto area, which weren't many, and having them keep a discreet eye on his youngest son.

With all this in mind, when John arrived back at the motel with supper and file folder in hand, he was pleasantly surprised to hear the giggling, shrieking and gasping of his daughter. Usually only one thing brought that on. A tickle fight. A small smile graced his face, he didn't know if he could manage more.

Stepping into the room, he took in the scene before him. Dean had subdued Max, who was still softly laughing in bursts. She was lying backwards on the bed; Dean was almost sliding off the bed, though his head was resting on her stomach. The sensation in her stomach, as he talked softly probably was accounting for Max's continued humors. And he just couldn't resist.

Injecting as much sternness as he could into his voice, he caught them both by surprise. "Just what the hell do you two think you're doing?"

The response was instantaneous. Both kids jumped to their feet, fight ready, only to relax slightly at the sight of their father. There was confusion, wondering what they were going to be lectured about. John stared at them a moment longer before he relaxed.

"I've been standing here with pizza for the last few minutes and you two yahoos haven't even come to get any," John lectured, hoisting the pizza boxes slightly. "Not to mention that these damn cans of pop are about to cut off my circulation and this damn file folder-!"

It was too late. The folder slipped from his numb fingers. Sharing a glance, Dean and Max darted forward to help their father, now that they understood he wasn't mad, just chiding them.

As they sat and ate, John shared the recovered information with them on the next hunt that he had planned. They still weren't sure what the artifact was that he'd found a picture of. Not one of them could identify it by the picture alone. And the fact that it was being kept in a guarded museum didn't help. As they discussed the possible ways they could get in to the museum to have a closer look at it, Max suddenly cut off conversation with a wave of her hand and a short hiss. Both Dean and John stared at her, puzzled until she leapt up from her chair and dived towards the beds. A quick search underneath and she came up triumphantly with her phone.

Dean turned to his father. "I didn't even hear the damn thing ring," he smirked. John just shook his head, for he hadn't heard it either.

Max stared at her phone in consternation, not recognizing the number scrolled across the screen. But she figured she should answer before it went to voicemail. Warily she answered. "Hello?"

"Hi, is Max Winchester there?" an unfamiliar deep, male voice asked. Max arched an eyebrow towards her family.

"May I ask who's calling?" she asked politely, if somewhat coolly.

"Yes, this is Andrew McFadden," the voice continued, though he sounded amused to Max. "Are you Sam Winchester's sister?"

At the mention of her brother's name, all thoughts of discretion flew from Max's mind as she let a mild panic seep into her eyes. Seeing it, John and Dean drew themselves up, tensing until they had a better handle on the situation.

"Yeah," Max confirmed distractedly. "Is he okay?"

Andrew chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure he is. I'm sorry. I should have told you why I was calling."

"That would be nice," Max scolded gently, still not entirely reassured by this unfamiliar person.

"I'm the manager of Kow Loon Garden," Andrew continued. "A restaurant," he added for further clarification. "Your brother dropped off a resume and you were listed as one of his references."

That cleared it up entirely for Max and her face brightened. She gave a relieved laugh and relaxed, allowing John and Dean to relax as well, though they still shared puzzled glances.

"Okay," Max grinned. "I'm sorry about that, but when people I don't know call me, they're usually trying to sell me something." Max noticed then that Dean was trying to get her attention to figure out what was going on, but Max waved him away. And knowing that he wouldn't stop, she headed out of the motel room for a little privacy.

As the door shut softly behind her, Dean glared at his father. "What the hell was that?"

"Don't ask me," John grunted, choosing another slice of pizza. "Do I look psychic?"

"Damn near sometimes," Dean grinned. They both fell quiet, straining to overhear, if they could any of Max's conversation. By the statements and panic she had endured, they surmised, fairly correctly, that it was about Sam. But when she relaxed, they knew that he was well.

They continued looking over the material, silently forming ideas about this next hunt, though nothing concrete, until Max returned to the room, several minutes later. But again, as she returned, she waved off their questions, instead dialing another number on her phone.

As soon as whoever was on the other end picked up, she gave a small laugh. "Hey dumb ass!" John and Dean shared another look. It could only be Sam she was talking to. Naturally, they weren't privy to Sam's side of the conversation, but they could follow along pretty well.

"Yeah, I got your message _after_ he called me," Max chided. She paused to listen. "Well where else did you apply?" Whatever he said got a huge laugh out of her.

"You know, that's worth a trip to Palo Alto, just for that," she giggled. "Dean'll be ecstatic over the endless possibilities." She paused and now the other males could hear the tone, if not the words as Sam threatened his little sister. Dean half-smirked. Whatever Sammy was getting himself into had to be something pretty cringe worthy. Male stripper maybe?

"Well really Sam, McDonald's?" she scoffed. "You can do better than that!" She listened again. "Oh, well, I didn't think about that." Her face softened and her voice dropped.

"So how come you haven't called before now?"

"That's no excuse!" she scolded. "Just a five second, hey I'm still alive would have been better than nothing!"

John and Dean stilled again as they heard more than just chiding in her voice. She really had been hurt and more worried than they assumed. Maybe it was just her easy going, water off a duck's back manner that struck them to thinking that she wasn't as worried as they were. But it turned out, they were wrong. Though apparently, by Max's crinkling eyes and small smile, Sammy managed to come up with a decent enough excuse the second time around.

"Yeah, that's true," she admitted. "That's fine. If I worry, then I will call you. Whenever and wherever I happen to be. I will feel completely justified in calling and checking up on my big brother and I won't be satisfied with voicemail. I'll just keep calling and calling-!"

"Oh, you finally caught on, did you?" she giggled. She listened again, her eyes twinkling as she caught Dean's eye and winked. "Oh all right!" she grumbled. "No four in the morning phone calls." With another wink, she held up three fingers and Dean snorted. Man, she could be a brat when she wanted to be.

Sam said something else that had Max glancing at their father. "No, we're just eating. Dad's got another hunt for us. It looks pretty interesting. We just need to-oh!" She paused, turning her face away slightly, but neither man sitting with her missed the slightly crestfallen features. "Okay, I understand. Yeah, let me know when you get moved in. Yeah, love you too. Bye."

Max shut her phone off a gently set it on the table. "He had to go," she said slowly, but distinctly.

There was silence until John cleared his throat and began rifling through the papers before him once more. "So I figure we'll head out in the morning. We should make the trip in two days."

Dean glanced at Max, who had turned her attention back to the food before her, studiously avoiding her families' gaze. "That's fine. We can probably get more information once we're actually in town. They've probably got tours and stuff set up at the museum."

"I just don't know how we're going to manage to get in and take care of this damn thing without a crap load of security bearing down on us," John sighed, rubbing a tense finger over his eyebrow.

"We'll think of something," Dean assured his father with a slick grin. "We always do."

John smirked. Dean was right. Over the years, their family had become very resourceful. "Yeah. Just think on it. I'm sure an idea or two will form." He glanced at his daughter, wondering how long it would take her to come out of her Sammy induced funk. But from the way her eyes were glittering, he knew it wouldn't be that long at all. If not completely out of it, she would at least be able to shunt it to the side. He didn't know if he was entirely happy about that, but there was nothing he could do at this late stage to teach her otherwise. More, he didn't know what alternative to give her, since he himself had never managed to entertain different ways of coping. The job, this life, couldn't allow for anything else.

"We'll also need to find the cleansing ritual," Max murmured.

"What d'you mean?" Dean demanded through a mouth full of pizza. He rubbed his slightly greasy fingers on the paper napkins the restaurant had provided and leaned back in his chair. "Dads got that ritual in his book that Pastor Jim gave him."

"But will a Latin recitation work on an artifact that looks to be non European?" Max wondered aloud. "I mean, things always seem to respond better if you speak to it in its own language." She looked slightly abashed that she wasn't making much sense. But the men understood.

"It's a good basic ritual," John said. "I don't think the language matters so much in certain cases. More likely it's the intent."

Those words touched of a small debate between the trio. Trying to decide whether it was worth the risk to break into a museum and go with the Latin ritual and risk having to come back with a different ritual if that didn't work. Or should they spend the extra few days trying to garner more information about the artifact that was wreaking havoc.

In the end, John decided that Max could look up the information in her spare time and if she found a ritual that would be great. If not, they would go on what they had and hope like hell it worked. If not, like Dean had said, they would think of something.

"I still can't believe you paid that guy to grab your ass!" Dean grumbled as he climbed into the Impala and pulled the door shut behind him. Max, already buckling up on the passenger's side just shot her brother an aggrieved look.

"I didn't pay him for that!" she snorted. "I just slipped him a twenty to provide a distraction. You're the perverted idiot who made such a big deal out of it."

"Well maybe if you'd let me in on your little plan, I wouldn't have reacted so badly," Dean groused as he started up the engine, following after his father's truck. "I mean, it's not every day that some random homeless guy starts coppin' a feel on your sister's ass!"

"I don't know why you're acting like this," Max grumbled, staring at her brother in consternation. "It's not like he was doing anything on purpose. He wasn't a perverted sicko. I paid him!"

"And there is just all kinds of wrong in that Max," Dean growled. He glared at Max, even as she frowned at him. "Don't you see that? Fine, you pay a guy to help you out and maybe it works out okay. But what happens when Dad and I aren't there? And suddenly that guy wants more than your money?"

"Than I kick his skanky ass," Max retorted scornfully. "Besides, you guys were there, he didn't try anything else. You know, Dad doesn't have a problem with this."

"Oh hell yeah he does," Dean spat out. "Just because he isn't chewing your ass right now, doesn't mean he won't."

He was saved from her angry recriminations when her cell phone chirped. With a heavy sigh and roll of her eyes, Max checked the screen. Her eyes lit up and she quickly answered. "Sammy!"

Dean rolled his eyes in imitation of his sister. How come little brother was always the one to make her face light up like that? The tiniest pang of jealousy that rolled through Dean's stomach was so familiar after these many years that he hardly paid it any attention any more. Sure, he was jealous of Sammy. Always had been in some way or another. Whether it was from Sam getting the last cookie, or getting better grades, it didn't matter. Dean supposed that it was a natural feeling that all older siblings endured. Just like it would have been natural for Sam to be jealous of Dean, since he was older and got to do things first and be allowed more freedom.

But this little fissure of pain was different. Sam had left. There was no use getting around the point. He and Max had stayed. So why was Max happier talking to Sam than she was to Dean or their father? What was it about little brother that made her world so much better? Logically he knew the answer. Max and Sammy loved each other as only family could. They'd built a bond, different from the ones that the Winchester's had forged for themselves. Just as John and Max and Dean and Max had created. Even knowing that there was nothing he could do about it, Dean still gave in to that momentary jealousy.

"That's so awesome!" Max crowed. "So which one are you gonna take?"

Dean wondered what they could be talking about. She had quickly and quietly filled him in on Sam's job search, while their father was out of earshot. So that was probably it.

"Oh really," she sounded disappointed. She paused to listen to her brother. "Well Sam, that sounds fine in theory. But have you really considered… I mean, all that grease? And if you worked at Kow Loon, wouldn't there be tips?"

Yeah, definitely the job thing. Which was strange to Dean. Aside from doing yard work back in Geraldine, or helping Bobby and his father tune up cars, he couldn't fathom holding down a nine to five. But apparently, that was part of Sam's little fantasy world he was creating for himself. When he heard his name though, Dean shook his head and listened again.

"Oh he's just pissed off because I'm right and he's wrong," Max chuckled, eying her eldest brother with a defiant gleam in her eyes.

"You are not!" Dean protested indignantly. "You tell Sam what you did and then we'll see!"

Max laughed again, whether in response to him or something Sam said, Dean wasn't sure. But he also noticed that she wasn't telling Sam about her little ploy for distraction at the museum.

"All I can say is that it worked," Max announced grandly. "Just like all my ideas."

"You're getting a little big for your britches there kid," Dean growled playfully. He noticed that his father had taken a turn, headed for the Interstate. He slowed the car to take the same turn, relieved that soon they'd be out of the city, back to the open road. Then he could really open up the engine and release some of the tension and frustration building up in his lean frame.

"No, I don't," Max was saying now. "Just give it to me. I'll remember." Dean listened as Max recited an address under her breath. Sounded like an apartment complex. When she went on to ask about rooms, Dean realized that Sam must have finally moved into the place he'd be accommodating through school. Probably campus housing or something. For some reason, he just couldn't see his baby brother joining a fraternity. No, that would have been Dean's thing. If he'd ever gone to college. Not that he really wanted to.

But finally, Max was saying her goodbyes. With an admonition to call any time, not just about school related things, she finally hung up.

"So?" Dean began, somewhat awkwardly. "He's okay?" he asked softly. Almost like he didn't want to hear that Sam was making it on his own. Some part of Dean, deep down, hoped that he wasn't. That Sam would realize what a huge mistake he'd made in leaving his family behind and come running back to them. Or better yet, Dean and John could swoop in and save him and once again, be heroes in Sammy's eyes, instead of the misunderstood disappointment.

"I guess," Max shrugged. ""He's doing okay for money right now. But that scholarship is only covering tuition, books and housing. He needs a job so that he'll be able to afford luxuries, you know, like clothes, soap, things like that." She grinned and glanced out the window. The sign leading to the Interstate was coming up. But she knew that Dean had already seen it, since the car was slowing minutely once again to take the off ramp.

"So what's up with the jobs?" Dean muttered as his eyes followed the black truck that was gaining speed.

"Well, he's debating between the Chinese restaurant and fast food," Max explained. "He'd be either flipping burgers or bussing tables. He likes the Garden, but they only want him on weekends, occasional nights and when they've got big parties. McDonald's, on the other hand, wants him weekends and two to three days a week and they can be really flexible with his classes."

"Doesn't he have a full course load this semester?" Dean wondered. Max nodded. "Then he shouldn't spend all his time at work. When's he going to study?" He may not have wanted his brother to be off at some school, but that didn't mean that Dean didn't want Sam to succeed at what he was doing.

"That was part of the consideration," Max sighed. "Sam will make up his own mind. I mean, if he chooses one and it doesn't work out, he can find something different."

"That's true," Dean shrugged philosophically. He glanced at his sister and grinned. "If it were up to me, I know what I would choose."

"Neither," Max chuckled, right on the money.

"You know it!" Dean laughed as well, his fingers reaching for the volume dial on the radio. He turned it up, rolled down his window and let himself be taken over by the feel of his baby around him, eating up the road beneath her.

"This has got to stop," Max muttered under her breath. Months had gone by. She, Dean and John had been hunting continuously. Not that she minded. It was good to keep busy. No, what she was tired of was playing messenger. The little go between for Sam and Dean. Neither one was talking directly to the other. Every time she mentioned it, they always came up with an excuse to be doing something else. But she could see the yearning in Dean's eyes and she could hear it in Sammy's voice. There was just too much of that damn male pride going on.

John on the other hand... Max didn't even dare suggest that John talk to Sam. And yet, at the same time, she had noticed that any time she got a phone call from Sam, John would lose interest in whatever he was doing and eavesdrop on her conversations relating back to Dean about what their brother was up to. And then, as soon as the conversation moved on to something else, he quit listening. So he cared, he just couldn't bring himself to confront things head on. Which was very strange in and of itself.

"What was that?" Dean asked, distracted as he flipped through a magazine, lounging on one of the beds. Max eyed her brother dispassionately. She needed some ploy, some way of breaking through this barrier the boys were erecting. Nagging, begging and pleading hadn't worked. There was one thing that Max knew she could try, but it was just so… female, that she wasn't sure she could pull it off. It didn't matter to her that it was manipulative. When it came to family, she was willing to do almost anything. And if that meant she had to shed a few tears, then the kitty inside was just going to have to suffer.

"Nothing," Max finally answered her brother. But it didn't matter; he'd already lost interest and was checking through the magazine again. At least he nodded absently at her voice. His hand dove back into the bag of chips at his side and he continued to munch away on his snacks.

Max checked the time, wondering how long it would be before John made his way back to the motel room. He was out and about, digging up another hunt. His hints that Dean and Max could be doing the same had fallen on deaf ears. At least in Dean's case. Dean's stance was that he was the brawn of their group. Why flex his mental muscles when everyone else was ready, willing and chomping at the bit to do so. That had amused John, but Max was pretty sure that John was going to put his foot down about it soon.

Knowing that she should have at least an hour before John returned, since he was usually good for two when he went out, Max retrieved her cell phone and punched in the most familiar number she'd been using for the last few months. Sam picked up after a few rings, his voice pleased and welcoming.

"Hey Sammy," Max greeted, ignoring Dean's sudden interest from where he was sitting. "What's up?"

"I don't know," he replied, his voice slightly gravelly. "You called me."

"And what's wrong with that?" Max asked teasingly. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Dean trying to feign non-interest, which obviously wasn't working.

"Nothing," Sam muttered and Max could hear him yawning through the phone.

"You sound tired," she spoke softly; injecting what she hoped was the right amount of concern in her voice. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Sam insisted immediately. "I just had a late shift at the garden last night. Anniversary party for some regulars. Made some pretty good tips all around."

"Okay," Max stood from where she'd been sitting and headed for the door to the motel. "Hang on just a second." Sam waited and Max could feel Dean's eyes boring into her back as she exited the motel room. She shut the door, the loud click echoing in the silence. "All right," she sighed. "Sorry, I just had to get out of there."

"What's wrong?" Sam asked cautiously, seeming unsure if he really wanted to know.

"Nothing," Max insisted immediately, and then quieted her voice again. "Dean's just…"

"Just what?"

"No, it doesn't matter," Max tried to break off the train of thought, knowing that it would intrigue Sam, especially if he thought his brother's behavior was hurting her. And as she knew he would, Sam took the bait.

"No, don't give me that," Sam sounded slightly angry and more wide awake. "What did Dean do?"

"Well, it's just," Max blew out another sigh, letting a hurt tone creep into her voice. "He's just been saying…." She let out a phony sniffle. "He was just so mean Sam. He called me…" Her mind whirled. What would Dean say that would be hurtful enough that she wouldn't just blow off, and Sam would believe of his brother? A slut? No, Dean wouldn't go there. The blame would always be on the guy if one ever dared to hit on his little sister. A brat? No, he'd called her that before and she always ignored him. Hmm, this feminine manipulation was harder than it seemed, especially on the fly, as she was doing. "You know what Sammy? I'm sorry, I can't talk about it."

Before he could answer that, Max had hung up on him. Now it was time for part two of the hastily conceived plan. Time to work on Dean. She re-entered the motel room, her path straight and steady. She ignored her cell phone, already ringing in her hands. She was pretty sure that it would be Sam calling back. She dropped it on the bed as she passed by her brother, making a beeline for the bathroom.

"Everything okay?" Dean asked with a smirk.

"Just fine," Max answered shortly. She entered the bathroom, turned to shut the door and let out a tiny sniffle while wiping a hand over her eyes. She made sure to lock the door, knowing that that would alert Dean that something at least was very wrong. The phone stopped ringing, and then began again after a few minutes.

Max knew that for this all to work, Dean was going to need some sort of evidence that she was upset. Tears were the easiest, but making them come was proving harder than she realized. She pinched herself numerous times, but that slight provocation just wasn't enough. What else would work? The only thing that ever brought tears to her eyes was… well, thoughts of her family. Instantly her mind pictured Eva, the last time she had seen her sister, laying on the cold uncaring floor. Dead from a bullet from the gun of the man that was supposed to take care of them.

That did it and though Max was loathe to go there, back to that place; she let her imagination take over. She could see Zack like that, hovering over his sister trying to protect her, blood gurgling like foam from his mouth. Ben, Jace, Tinga, Seth, all of them, like a procession through her mind. And then, pushing it further, like a rotten tumor bursting in her mind, images of John, of Sam, Dean, all of them lying dead on the ground. Paying the ultimate price for trying to protect her.

'_Stop! Stop it!' _ she screamed at herself. But once unbound, her mind didn't want to stop. It wanted to bring forth all her fears, laid bare, force her to accept that this world she lived in wasn't all happiness and light.

Dean glanced from the phone Max had dropped carelessly on the bed, the screen registering that Sam had just called three times in succession, to the bathroom door where his little sister had barricaded herself in. He frowned as he heard something that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Pushing the magazine off his lap, Dean stood, wiping the potato chip residue from his fingers on his pants. He skirted the edge of the bed to approach the bathroom door. Hesitantly, he knocked.

"Max? You okay?" Silence answered him.

Dean knocked again, wondering what the hell could have happened between the time she had gone out the front door, only to come back in, in tears. "Maxie?"

"I'm fine," he heard her answer, but the catch in her voice belied the words.

"Yeah right," he mumbled, trying the door, finding it locked. "Max, I know you're not okay. Tell me what happened?" he demanded, using his most cajoling big brother voice.

"Nothing happened," she insisted, though tremulously. "Sam just-!" And there her voice broke on another sob. Dean's jaw clenched. Sam! He should have known. The usually oh so sensitive little clod had upset their sister. And almost like magic, the phone rang again. Dean whirled around, took two long steps and scooped the phone off the bed. Yep, it was definitely Sammy calling. Though whether it was to apologize or rub more salt in this wound, Dean wasn't sure. But he wasn't about to let his little brother off the hook either way.

He flipped the phone open, growling out, "what the hell did you say to her, bitch!"

There was only the slightest pause, knowing that Sam was taken aback by such a greeting. But he rallied quickly. "I didn't say anything, jerk! You're the one that upset her!"

"Oh right," Dean snarled. "I'm the one that just got off the phone with her after having said something so mean that she had to lock herself in the bathroom because she didn't want me to know she was crying. You little pissant! What the hell did you say to her?"

"I didn't say anything!" Sam insisted, growing angrier. "You're the one who upset her so much that she had to call me! I don't care how you treat other people Dean, but you can't treat Max like garbage and expect everyone to be all right with it!"

"I didn't do anything!" Dean insisted, loudly. "You're the one that-!" Dean stopped, hearing the bathroom lock click open. He swung around in time to see Max standing in the doorway, whatever tears shed, gone now from her face, a slight mocking grin gracing her lips. Realization dawned and Dean was sure it was in his face as Max quirked an eyebrow up at him. "You little bitch." He said it softly, mockingly, admiringly.

"You know Dean, if that's the way you talk to your family, then it's no wonder-!"

"Shut up Sam!" Dean replied brightly. He heard an indignant squawk at the other end of the line. "You know what. I think we've just been played."

There was puzzled silence at the sudden turnabout. "What?"

"Yeah, Max seems to have miraculously recovered from her little bout with the blues."

"She… did that deliberately?" Sam choked out. "Oh man. She is such a brat!"

"Hey you're not the one that has to live with her right now," Dean groused good-naturedly. Whatever ire he might have had over his sister's behavior, well, he'd understood instantly why she'd done as she had.

Sam chuckled, and then cleared his throat. The prominent reminder did sort of hit home for him. "You know Dean," he began, his voice quiet. "What I said, you know, when I left…"

"Save it Sam," Dean warned tiredly. He didn't really want to get into this now.

"No," Sam protested quietly. "Dean, I didn't mean it. At least not the way it came out."

Dean's jaw clenched, recalling clearly the slur against their mother. Granted, he had tried to understand Sam's point of view. And taken differently, it was true. Sammy really didn't have any memories of their mother, so she didn't have the same connection with Sam that she'd had for Dean. "Yeah, I know," he finally admitted. Silence hung between them, neither knowing what to say next.

Dean noticed that Max had disappeared back into the bathroom and he could hear water running. The door was ajar and when he leaned forward, he could see her washing the residue of her tears from her face.

"So has she been even brattier since I left?" Sam interrupted his brother's thoughts.

"Oh like you wouldn't believe," Dean snorted. "She made up this totally suck ass game about you."

"About me?" Sam voice climbed a little up the octave register in surprise.

"Oh yeah," Dean grinned. "Little game she likes to call it's a good thing Sammy left 'cause now we don't have to put up with his snoring and his whining and-!"

"Hey you jerk!" Sam laughed, recognizing the teasing for what it was. "It's a two way street, you know."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean smirked into the phone, even though his brother couldn't see it.

"Well let's see, no more having to share my bed with someone who mumbles all night long. No more nicking my finger on your stupid knives. I'm not being subjected to lousy music every two minutes."

"Hey!" Dean growled. "My music is not lousy."

"Yeah," Sam interjected. "Three to one family consensus dude!"

"You're all idiots," Dean grumbled under his breath.

"So what else has she been doing?" Sam asked. "Aside from reuniting her not speaking at the moment brothers?" He got a chuckle out of his brother with that.

"Oh dude, let me tell you about this stunt she pulled on a hunt," Dean exclaimed. The bathroom was still occupied and he wasn't sure if Max needed some privacy or if she was giving them some privacy. With a wary eye on the bathroom door, he proceeded to fill Sam in on Max's unannounced plan and the succeeding events.

"Oh man," Sam groaned. "That was stupid of her. Something could have gone wrong."

"I know!" Dean crowed, glad that his brother was totally on board with his point of view on this.

"I mean, she could have dropped the damn thing, or not caught it and then there'd have been a huge problem."

"Huh?" Dean's mouth dropped. How could Sam have been more worried about the stupid thing-a-ma-jig than his own sister's welfare? "Dude! She paid that guy to-!"

"Create a distraction, right?" Sam filled in for him. "And it worked, didn't it?"

"Well yeah," Dean groused. "But it was just plain wrong."

"So teach her a lesson," Sam chuckled. As soon as he said it, Dean's eyes began to gleam. College boy was most definitely on the right track. As he began to muse over the possibilities, he heard the familiar roar of his father's truck. He checked his watch, surprised to see that he and Sam had been talking, yelling free for the last half hour.

"I'll think on it," Dean assured Sam. "If you get any ideas, let me know."

"So, uh," Dean wondered briefly if he should hang up before John got in the door. Maybe talking to Sam would be a good thing. If Max could break down the barrier between the two of them, he could turn around and do so for Sam and their Dad. He just wasn't sure how to go about it, because one thing he knew, there was no way in hell that he was gonna get all emo and cry like a little girl. He finally seized on the first thing he could think of. "How are your classes going?"

"Oh, pretty good," Sam sounded surprised, but then quickly warmed to his subject. "I still haven't decided my major, but I've got the rest of the year to figure that out. Oh hey, you remember Kirkegaard? I saw her the other day. Seems she's friends with one of the professors here. She saw me and just completely clammed up. Disappeared before I got anywhere near her."

"The old bat," Dean sniffed. "You know, she deserves whatever crap life throws at her."

"Well, she didn't look too good," Sam admitted. "I guess teaching really was her life."

"But otherwise, everything's good?" Dean asked just as the door to the motel room opened. John stepped in, seeing immediately that Dean was on the phone. He quietly shut the door behind himself and glanced around the rest of the room.

"Yeah, it's good," Sam assured him. "It's… everything I hoped it would be."

"That's good Sam," Dean spoke clearly, watching his father. John just watched him back, allowing no flicker of emotion to pass his face. Dean's gaze dropped down to his lap, not certain what his father's lack of reaction meant. "I should probably let you go. Don't want to keep you from your studying."

"Okay," Sam replied softly. There was a short pause. "It was good to talk to you man. Maybe I'll… give you a call later?"

"Yeah," Dean half-smiled. "That'd be okay." Not waiting for a reply, or to bother saying goodbye, he pressed the end call button.

"Is he okay?" John asked quietly, his voice heavy with emotion. Dean's head snapped up, relief filling him at this obvious show of concern from his Dad. Well, he knew that John was concerned. But John acknowledging it took a very heavy weight off of Dean's chest. If John was concerned as well, then it didn't mean that Dean was having to choose between his own family.

"Yeah, he's good," Dean smiled. And then laughed.

"Where's Max?" his father asked before they could get into any other heavy subject. Dean was saved having to answer as the bathroom door came fully open and Max dashed out to greet her father. But it was unlike any greeting he'd had from her.

John was surprised when Max barreled straight at him. His arms opened instinctively to catch her as her slight frame attacked his, her arms going around her middle while her face became buried in his shirt. With startled, puzzled eyes, he glanced at his son, who seemed just as puzzled as he.

"Hey Max?" he greeted gently, unsure. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she mumbled, her voice muffled by the fabric. "Just glad you're back."

He glanced again at Dean, who seemed to be lost in thought. But when he caught his father staring at him, almost pleading for some clue as to why she was acting this way, Dean just waved him off, seeming to indicate that they'd talk about it later. For now, John just let her hug him. But when she pulled back, he was startled to see traces of tears on her face. She gave him a sheepish grin and he couldn't help himself. He grinned back.

"What did you do?" he asked, his voice only mildly tinged with unspoken accusation. He wasn't at all mistaken when she grinned impishly and her eyes darted guiltily to Dean.

"Just mendin' some rifts," she evaded as best she could. And then John understood. She had probably been the one to get Dean talking to Sam. And had probably used tears to do it. He squeezed her shoulder once before moving away.

"I'm surprised you didn't do it sooner," he chided, throwing a smirk at his son. Dean's expression became mulish when he realized that his father had seen what Max had been up to and had neither warned Dean about it, nor prevented the ambush.

"You planned this?" Dean accused, but John was shaking his head.

"No," he said softly. "But I figured she would take matters into her own hands at some point. I just didn't know who was going to be on the receiving end. You or me?"

"Dean's easier," Max stated, and then started to laugh. She waved her hand at her affronted brother. "Sorry," she whimpered. "Came out wrong."

"You know that's your fault, right?" John frowned at Dean.

"What'd I do?"

"Your dirty mind is rubbing of on my sweet baby girl," John taunted. "I mean, where else would she get the idea to pay a guy-!"

"That wasn't my fault!" Dean protested instantly, before he realized that his father was once again teasing him.

"I know," John put his hands up before the full chorus of the blame game could start. He smiled at Max, his mind wondering what on earth his tough little girl cold have done to herself to make her tears real enough to convince Dean. Because just like the rest of the family she was tough as nails and rarely gave in to those damn emotions. Whatever it was, it had to have been bad. Maybe what he'd been thinking on earlier was ripe for putting into action.

"I was thinking," he began, his serious tone catching both Dean and Max's eyes. "I haven't come up with anything and haven't heard about anything. The scene seems pretty quiet. What do you guys say to another vacation?" He pursed his lips and before they could answer, spoke again quickly. "It'd have to be short and we wouldn't be able to do much. But you know, a little break probably wouldn't hurt anything. Maybe we could head out west…?"

He trailed off, planting the welcome idea in their minds. The pair shared muted excited glances and then turned back to their father.

"Head out west?" Dean repeated, his voice amused.

"Like to say… California?" Max drawled.

"Well," John pretended to consider. "If that's where you'd like to go, I can't say how I would mind."

"Yeah," Max nodded slowly, trying to remain nonchalant. "California sounds good. Nice weather this time of year."

"Cali's always got good weather," Dean reminded her. "Though it doesn't matter to me. As long as I'm driving, I'm happy."

"Then it's settled," John grinned. "We'll leave tomorrow morning."


	24. Frayed Part Two

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: None at this time. (The pairing will become evident although after the last chapter, I think people are getting suspicious…)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

A/N- This was originally supposed to be one chapter. But it was too large for so I have broken it into two parts.

When It Changes

Chapter Twenty-three

Frayed- Part Two

"_Head out west?" Dean repeated, his voice amused. _

"_Like to say… California?" Max drawled. _

"_Well," John pretended to consider. "If that's where you'd like to go, I can't say how I would mind."_

"_Yeah," Max nodded slowly, trying to remain nonchalant. "California sounds good. Nice weather this time of year."_

"_Cali's always got good weather," Dean reminded her. "Though it doesn't matter to me. As long as I'm driving, I'm happy."_

"_Then it's settled," John grinned. "We'll leave tomorrow morning."_

"You're going to have to shorten the leash sometime Dean!" Max snapped angrily, slamming the door of the Impala shut.

Dean just glanced at her before pulling away from the gas tanks, following once again, his father's lead.

"Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" she demanded once they were back again on the highway.

"What's there to say?" Dean asked irritably, ignoring his sister in favor of watching the road. "The little punk was trying to lure you off to God knows what."

"He wasn't trying to lure me anywhere!" Max retorted. "He just asked me if I lived around here."

"You shouldn't have been talking to him in the first place," Dean insisted angrily. He didn't know why he was so hot under the collar. Well, maybe he did. While she may not have been truly part of the Winchester brood, she did seem to have inherited devastating good looks that were developing more every day. And she could be charming as hell when she wanted to be.

"Oh right!" Max growled. "I forgot. My world has to revolve around you."

"I didn't say that," Dean's teeth gnashed, as somehow he knew he was digging himself into a hole.

"No, it's fine," Max slashed at the air angrily. "But I hope you realize that this means that I won't have any hesitation in butting in on your conversation the next time you're chatting up a woman."

"Hey now!" Dean protested, understanding exactly what she was getting at. "That is a completely different situation."

"How?" she demanded. "How is it different? Don't you ask about where they're staying? What their phone number is? Or maybe you just concentrate on numbers more to your liking. Hmm, is her intelligence matched or outstripped by her bra size!"

Dean gaped at his sister. Where the hell had this little temper tantrum come from? He'd simply told Max that they were done and told that little no good punk that his sister wasn't interested. Right? She wasn't, was she? He wasn't sure that he wanted to broach that question. But damn it, Max just shouldn't be ready for dating. She was only fifteen!

But then again… what had he been doing in the dark on lonely back roads that wasn't hunting related, at that age? He flushed slightly.

"Dad?" he heard her speak and dared a look towards her again. She had her cell phone out now. "Can you pull over? I don't feel like riding with Dean right now."

Dean could just imagine trying to explain this to his dad. But then again, John might have a pretty good idea, since he was the one that had been glaring at the teenage Lothario to begin with. It might shock some sense into Max when John sided with his son.

But apparently something in her tone convinced him to stop, or perhaps he wanted to talk to her about caution in talking to strange boys. Dean figured it could go either way. Dutifully, he slowed down and followed his father to pull off on a turnout. The car idled while Max unbuckled her seatbelt and exited the car without another word to her brother. But instead of walking to their father's vehicle, like he expected, she opened the back door. He turned to find her digging through her bag. Rolling his eyes, he was about to suggest that she just take the damn thing with her. Really, this would be nice for him. He wouldn't have to listen to her bitch for the next couple hundred miles.

But John didn't seem happy about how long it was taking and Dean noticed his father getting out of his truck. He turned and rolled down his window as his father approached.

"What's going on?" John demanded shortly. If Max had wanted to ride with him, she should have said so back at the gas station. He leaned over so that he could see both his children in the car.

"Max is pissy because she and her new little friend didn't get a chance to play patty cake," Dean snarked, loudly enough so that Max would hear him. But instead of the expected retort, the back door slammed and she stalked away.

"Dean, that's about enough out of you," John warned. Dean looked up at his father in surprise.

"Dad," he protested. "She's not thinking straight and-!"

"No," John growled. "I mean it. I don't know what kind of problem you two have, but I'm getting sick of this. She didn't do anything wrong and you need to quit acting like-!" John stopped suddenly, his eyes widening as if suddenly realizing something for the first time. '_A jealous boyfriend'_ he'd been about to say. But he softened his tone and amended that. "You need to stop being such an overprotective big brother. If you keep this up, it'll just drive Max away. She'll start to resent your behavior and then she'll start resenting you. I don't think any of us want that."

Dean felt chagrined over being taken to task over something that he thought he'd have one hundred percent agreement on. But that was quickly eclipsed by the amazement as he caught sight of what Max was doing. "Holy hell! How did she do that?"

John spun around to look at what his daughter had accomplished. He'd assumed that she had climbed into the truck and was waiting for him. But while he'd been berating his son, Max had gotten busy unstrapping her Ninja. The motorcycle which was currently residing on the side of the highway. There were only two ways she could have gotten it down. Either pushing it off the truck, which would have possibly damaged it. Or one end held and had to be lifted down. John wasn't sure that Max, as strong as she was, could accomplish that by herself. But by Dean's slack-jawed amazement, that was just what she did.

"Boy," John grinned. "You pissed her off but good."

"She just…" Dean trailed off, looking to his father for confirmation. He gave his head a quick shake, trying to convince himself that there must have been some trick to the feat of strength that his sister had pulled off. And maybe there was. Anger could easily transmute itself into adrenalin. That was how, it had to be.

"I'll check in every hundred miles!" they both heard Max shout as she slung her leg over the seat. Before either could answer, she'd started the bike, checked the oncoming traffic and had roared away. John watched her for a moment, pleased to see that she wasn't speeding or driving erratically, yet, then turned back to his son. He quirked an amused eyebrow at his eldest, then shook his head and turned to head back to his truck.

The little storm had blown over by the time they'd reached California. Although Dean continued to watch with dangerous eyes anytime strangers, especially strangers of the male persuasion got near Max, he'd eased off snarling at them or blatantly blowing them off. Some of the younger ones, unused to the lingering threat behind those glares, gave in to instinct and backed off. It was the older ones, ones with a little more experience who shrugged it off. But Dean was pleased to see that John occasionally stepped in with a soft but sure indication that her Daddy was watching out for her. And to the son's amazement, the father was much better at it than he would have believed. Because John managed to do it in a way that kept Max smiling and not out for blood.

Max had gone 300 miles initially on her motorcycle before she found a gas station to wait at while the males caught up to her. With John's help, she put up the motorcycle and strapped it down again. As Max had pointed out, they didn't need to be fuelling up three vehicles the whole way to Cali. She'd just needed to blow off some steam.

And so she was riding again with Dean as they pulled into San Jose. He hadn't exactly apologized for jumping down that kid's throat. More like he explained that he wasn't really happy about guys thinking male thoughts about _his_ little sister. Max had accepted that and just told him that he'd better figure out a way to get used to it. And while Dean's brain was trying to do just that, his heart had a little more trouble following along.

When they stopped at a diner, before finding a motel, Max pulled out her phone to call Sam. Since the waitress was prompt, she waited until they had ordered before digging for a little information. Under the general guise of asking about his days and his work at the restaurant, she was amazed that he was still working there, Max found out that Sammy had no classes and was off of work the next two days. Not so surprising about the classes, since it was the weekend. But he informed Max that he was taking time off to study for an upcoming mid-term. He might go out with his friends that evening, he wasn't sure.

After they hung up with each other, Max turned to fill John and Dean in. Dean was pleased, since this all worked out perfectly. They would stay the night in San Jose and head to Palo Alto in the morning. They could surprise Sam and have a few days with him with nothing to get in the way of the family reunion. But then again, even if he had other commitments, such as classes and work, they'd be amenable to working around them, which they just might have to. Even John wasn't sure how long they'd be staying.

Dinner eaten and a motel suite found, John decided that he was going to go down the street to the bar. He figured he could have a few drinks and return so that Dean could have a go if he wanted. Just as long as his son wasn't too late or into anything that would delay them the next morning. As soon as John left, Dean had the remote in his hand, surfing through a wide selection of channels.

"Dean?" Max called, standing near the door. He turned his head towards her, though his eyes were still locked on the television screen. "I'm gonna run down to the corner and get a paper, okay?"

"What for?"

She shrugged. "Something to read. See if there are any movies playing that we might want to see with Sam. Just want a quick walk. Take your pick. I'll be back in five."

"Okay," he sighed. He glanced at his watch. Surely there wouldn't be any trouble with a five minute walk, would there? And thankfully there wasn't. She was back in under the time she'd allotted for herself.

Max let herself in, her eyes glued to the paper before her. Maneuvering around the room to her assigned bed, she sat gingerly at the edge, and then passed the paper in front of Dean's eyes.

"Dean, look at this," she instructed.

His eyes flicked down to the paper, not sure what he was supposed to be looking at. But when he saw the headline about a missing woman being found and the by-line about how the woman claimed she was lured into a decrepit house by a phantom child, he swore softly and threw down the remote. He clutched the paper as Max let go. She reached for the remote and hit the mute button.

"Just outside of Palo Alto, at the lake" she murmured before he could even ask. Dean chewed at the corner of his lip as he mulled it over.

"It might not be anything," he warned, his tone resigned. Max had a sharp eye for their line of work, no one could deny it.

"She's not the first," Max informed him, pointing towards the bottom of the column. It said that it was continued on the next page. "Dead bodies have been turning up on this stretch of beach and others have reported seeing what they thought was a child. But it disappeared if they got too close."

"Any connections in the victims?" was Dean's next question. Max was already shrugging.

"Aside from them all being women?" she muttered. "No. The cops aren't taking the sightings seriously, since the descriptions of the kid are vague. They're thinking possible serial killer in the area."

"We should tell Dad," Dean sighed. He let the paper flutter to his lap.

"I know," Max echoed his tone. "But…" she bit at her lip and glanced away.

"If it's nothing, you don't want to distract him from spending some quality time with Sammy?" Dean answered for her. "Don't feel bad," he grinned suddenly. "I'm feelin' the same way."

"But if it is something?" Max hedged.

"I'll tell you what," Dean smiled widely. "Why don't we check this out? That way, if it's nothing, we can show Dad and he won't have to worry about it. And if it is something, then we'll have the info we need to take care of it quick and easy. It'd barely cut into our movie of the week reunion." He chuckled. "Man, Dad's been riding my ass to start doing more research."

"Guess it's time to sink or swim then, huh?" Max retorted sweetly. She pulled free her cell phone and dialed her father's number. When he answered, she put on her most innocent face, blithely ignoring her elder brother who was trying not to laugh and alert his father that his daughter was up to something. "Hey Dad. I was getting kind of bored here and Dean said he wouldn't mind driving around a little bit and looking at the sights. Would you mind?" She paused to listen. "Yeah, okay. We'll be back by then." John said something else. "Yeah, love you too." She hung up her phone and grinned at her brother.

"How do you do that?" he demanded rhetorically, shaking his head.

"Just be glad that I can," Max wrinkled her nose at him. "Otherwise we'd have to put up with one of your lame-ass stories."

His protest carried them out the door and into the night.

By the time John got back to the motel, it was just after midnight. He wasn't anywhere near drunk, since he'd nursed two beers through the night. Dean had called him earlier when the pair had gotten back to the motel and told him not to worry about relieving him, since he didn't feel like going out. So John had taken the time to relax and think about what he was going to say to his youngest son when he saw him the next day. Hopefully he'd do better with the sentimental crap than he had in the past.

At first glance, he didn't see Dean. The television was on, playing quietly. But as John eased the door shut, he caught sight of both kids. Max was in her bed, sitting up, but asleep, and her head resting on Dean's shoulder. Dean was also sitting up, though he was sitting on top of the covers, also asleep. His head was leaning back against the headboard and the remote was still loosely held in his left hand. John held back his chuckle. He should have known.

Passing his bed, he shuffled in the small space between the two. "Dean?" he whispered quietly, tickling at his eldest's foot, just like he had decades ago when his son fell asleep anywhere but his bed. And just as it had before, it woke up his sleepy child. Dean blinked owlishly up at his father, and then tilted his neck, working out whatever crick was there.

"Hey Dad," Dean returned, just as quietly. He glanced down at his sister, but she didn't stir. He made to move away from her, but her arm shot across his stomach. Dean smiled ruefully up at his dad. "Don't think she's gonna lemme go."

John did chuckle this time. "Scoot down at least," he instructed.

Dean did as instructed and Max unconsciously followed suit. John pulled the cover off of his and Dean's bed and laid it over his son. There wasn't even time for Dean to thank him since he'd already fallen back asleep. John took the remote from his son's hand, turned off the television and set it on the nightstand between the beds. Satisfied that his children were well and taken care of, he moved to his bag to retrieve what he would need for his nightly ablutions.

When John woke the next morning, both Max and Dean were gone. There was a note on the bedside table, telling him that they had something to take care of and would meet him at the diner a few blocks over at nine.

Checking his watch, he saw that it was almost that time already. He was surprised that the kids had managed to get by him without his waking up. Usually he was a much lighter sleeper than that.

He made it to the diner only a couple minutes late. But sweeping his glance over the other patrons, he didn't see the pair anywhere. Approached by a waitress, he asked for a table or booth for three and told her that his kids would be joining him. She showed him to a booth and he chose the side facing the door, so he could see when they came in. He asked for coffee and declined a menu for now.

He didn't have to wait long. It was just after his first sip of coffee that he saw Max and Dean walking up to the diner. Again, out of the blue, he was struck by something odd watching them. Dean had reached past his sister to open the door for her. And when she had entered, he'd laid a protective hand across the small of her back. It was a move that John was very familiar with. One that stole his breath away. That was exactly how he and Mary had used to enter a public place.

It seemed to him that he was looking at the kids through new eyes as they both glanced toward him. Max gestured and turned her head to say something to Dean. He tilted his head down to hear her, and then responded with a grin. Max's smile was brilliant and they both waved away the waitress as they moved to join him.

It wasn't until Max slid the file folder onto the table that John noticed that she had it at all.

"What's this?" he asked quietly, setting his cup down.

Max glanced up at her brother as he slid into the seat next to her. "We were doing some research," she informed him in a low voice.

"And you found something, obviously?" John sighed. He pulled the folder to him and after a quick glance to see that no one was in the vicinity; he looked over the odds and ends the pair had stuck in there. He closed it again as the waitress approached to freshen his cup, which didn't quite need it and to deliver menus and take Max and Dean's drink orders.

"This is what we were doing last night," Dean informed his father. "And this morning, since the county courthouse was closed last night."

John sighed again as he ruminated over this discovery. Granted, the kids had done the right thing, gathering the information and by all means, they both looked prepared to deal with it. He just wish that it could have... not happened. And barring that, waited until they'd had a chance to see Sam.

"It shouldn't take too long," Dean interrupted his father's thoughts with an eerie canniness. "We'll take care of this and still have plenty of time to visit Sammy."

"Speaking of Sam," Max muttered. "I wonder why he didn't mention anything about this?"

"Maybe he's been too busy with school to read about it," Dean offered quietly in their brother's defense. No one said anymore about that. They just ordered their breakfast and made plans to deal with this as quickly and as quietly as possible. Sam had no idea they were coming, so he wouldn't be disappointed if they didn't show up when they had wanted to.

The drive to Palo Alto was completed in record time. Due to Max and Dean's research, they had a pretty good idea about where to search.

But as they began the careful street by street search for the turn off they wanted that would lead them down to the lake, Max motioned for John to stop the truck.

"What is it sweetie?" John asked, mildly concerned. He glanced up in the rearview mirror to see that Dean was right behind him, puzzled, but patient.

"There's Sam's apartment building," Max offered quietly. She turned to face her father. "Should I…?"

John knew immediately what she was asking. He just wasn't sure if Sam would go along with it. But there was no harm in asking. "Go ahead," he nodded, sighing heavily. The worst would be that Sam refused to come. That would be fine. They'd take care of this and Sam would know they were in town and have time to clear his schedule of anything else, if he wished.

Max slid out of the truck and dashed up the front walk way. She stepped in the first security door and turned to the buzzer. She ran her finger down the list of apartments before selecting Sam's. She pressed it lightly, then again a little harder. She had to wait a few minutes before the rough, gravelly, familiar sleepy voice answered.

"Yeah?"

"Sam Winchester?" Max asked, deliberately lowering her voice. She wondered if Sammy was sleep deprived enough to be fooled. "I've got a package here for you."

"Mmm," he mumbled, apparently it was going to work. "I'm not expecting anything." She could hear the yawn in his voice.

"It's from a, let me see," she feigned with a smile on her face. "From a Max Winchester. Postmarked Rutland, Vermont." She plucked the name of one of the larger towns they'd passed through recently.

"Oh, okay, sure," Sam sounded a little more wide awake now. The inner security buzzed and Max yanked it open. Her enthusiasm to see her brother carried her up the few flights of stairs swiftly. She came to his door and knocked loudly. Sam must have been waiting because she was answered almost immediately.

"Hey," she sang out. Sam's eyes widened, his jaw slack and then he whooped as he reached out to drag her into the apartment and into a fierce hug.

"Oh my God! Max!" he exclaimed even as he swung her around. "What are you doing here?" As he let her feet touch the ground again, he pulled back from her instinctive hug back. "Everything's okay, right? Dad and Dean are-!"

"They're okay," Max assured him quickly. "Everyone's fine. We were just, you know, passing through."

"Passing through?" Sam was suspicious immediately.

"Okay, not passing through," Max giggled. "You should feel honored big brother," she laughed, poking him in the shoulder. "You know Dad doesn't take a vacation for just anybody."

"Dad's what?" Sam was gaping at her again. Two words that were very foreign to each other had just been put to use in a sentence. It near boggled his mind. Realizing then that they were still standing in the open doorway, Sam pulled his sister forward and shut the door behind her. "Come in here." He glanced around the room, looking slightly sheepish.

While ordinarily Sam was a very neat, organized person, his roommate didn't hold quite so religiously to the same qualities. It wasn't bad, just a few things scattered here and there. A few mugs and plates that hadn't quite made it to the kitchen yet. Thank God Rick would be moving out after the semester ended. But all the same, he didn't really like for Max to be seeing a mess the first time she saw his place. His hands quickly gathered what he could of the dirty dishes.

"Make yourself at home," he called as he headed towards the kitchen. "I'll be right back."

"I can't stay long," Max called after him as she skirted around a coffee table. "Dad and Dean are waiting for me." Trying to be helpful, she moved a few more dishes to the corner of the table, crumpling up some paper napkins and putting them in a bowl; since she didn't see a trash can in the living room. As she moved another dish, she caught sight of a very familiar piece of paper. Carefully setting the dish aside, she eased the newspaper off the stack that it had been residing on.

Looking through the article, Max noticed that a few things had been lightly circled in pencil and then erased. She frowned and glanced up as she heard Sam return.

"Sorry about this," he apologized sheepishly, brushing back a lock of hair that persisted in falling into his eyes. "My roommate's more a party animal than a cleaning machine."

"It's okay," she dismissed quickly, and then held out the paper. "I'm assuming you saw this?" She didn't have to clarify what she meant. That much was obvious by the sudden flush in Sam's face.

"Yeah," Sam hurried to say, gesturing widely, as he did sometimes when he was nervous. "How could I miss it? It was in a lot of the newspapers yesterday."

"Uh huh," Max said quietly. "But I doubt that very many someone's would circle all the evidence that points to something other than a run of the mill serial killer." Again, that flash of blush on her brother's cheeks. Glancing down, she saw that there were more papers under where the first had been. Some were flat, some were folded back. All of them to do with the same mystery she held in her hands right now. "Oh my God Sam," she breathed quietly, hesitantly. Her eyes were huge with disbelief as she looked back to her brother. "How long have you known about this?"

Sam felt utterly chagrined as he took in her accusatory face. But then it dawned on him that she knew way too much about this from just reading one article in one newspaper. And as he'd learned at an early age, when you were cornered, that's when you went on the attack.

"That's what you're really here for, isn't it?" he demanded angrily. So swift was the change that Max felt herself taking a step back, only to bump into the old sofa. "You don't need to feed me that crap about Dad taking a vacation. He never takes a vacation! He never stops! You're just here because he's hunting this thing!"

"Damn it Sam!" Max snapped back, surprised at him. At herself even. "You know what? It took me and Dean one night to know something was wrong. We saw this article in San Jose. After we traveled across God knows how many states to see you. We figured it out and thought we'd take care of it while we were here. It is not the reason that we came!"

Her words seemed to get through to Sam, though he sounded like a little boy as he asked her "really?"

"Yeah really Sam," Max offered sadly. She slowly sank down to the sofa, carefully setting the paper back on its pile. "Why didn't you do something Sam? You had to have known?"

"I-!" Sam faltered, avoiding her glance. "I just can't handle that stuff anymore, okay?"

"Sam," Max pleaded and he finally looked up at her. "You can't just ignore what's out there. I know you want something different. Something normal. But you just can't pretend that what's out there doesn't exist."

He was silent for a moment, and then hung his head. "I know," he whispered. "You're right." Stronger now, "but you guys are here. You can take care of it, right? You will take care of it."

"Yeah," Max agreed. "We'll take care of it. You should know that. I mean, even if you didn't want to deal with it, you should have called us back when you first suspected something. That's what family is for, right?" She tried to lighten her tone. Sam responded by grinning sheepishly. "Sammy," she chided, "I know you. This isn't like you to sit by and let innocent people be hurt. Or let them die." She almost felt guilty, seeing the sudden welling of tears in his eyes.

"No," he agreed with her assessment. Of course he did, but it wasn't that simple for him anymore it seemed. "I just kept telling myself that, well…"

"That it had to be anything but?" Max asked. Sam nodded slowly. In the stretching silence, they heard a familiar horn honk. Sam's gaze flew to the open window. "Dad's here?" he asked incredulously.

"And Dean," Max assured him. She stood again and crossed over to him. "I should probably go. I actually came to ask you if you wanted to help us. But I don't suppose you do, huh?"

Sam seemed to debate this and then finally shook his head. "No. I'll stay here. I'd probably just get in the way."

"Okay," Max offered, though inside she was a little saddened by his refusal. But she still understood. She hugged her brother again, feeling better when his long arms surrounded her shoulders. "But please Sammy, don't ignore this."

"I won't," he said. "I promise." He dropped a small kiss on her forehead as they heard the horn honk again. "You guys stay safe, okay? And call me as soon as it's done."

"I will, promise," Max smiled. She gave his hand one last squeeze and headed for the door. Sam followed and watched as she descended the stairs, until she was out of sight before finally shutting the door.

As Max exited the building, she could see that both John and Dean were waiting for her. Dean was leaning lazily against the Impala, his eyes shaded from the early morning light. John was coming around the front of his truck, after having briefly leaned on the horn. He unconsciously mimicked Dean's pose against his truck.

At Max's gesture, Dean joined her and their father at the hood of the truck. Quickly Max relayed what had happened, what she had discovered and Sam's refusal to join them. With each word, John grew sterner and more distant.

Fine!" he spoke softly, the words sharp and cutting. "If that's the way he wants it then that's just fine! If he doesn't want to deal with us, then he won't have to!" With those snarled words, John broke away from them and headed back to the driver's seat. He slammed the door, gave them a _get your ass in gear_ look and started the engine. Max and Dean stepped back and without waiting to see who Max was going to ride with, took the decision from her hands as he peeled away from the curb. Both Max and Dean were left staring dumbfounded, after him.

"Why is he…?" Max gasped, then turned to her brother. His expression was unfathomable. "He's confusing the issues," she stated emphatically.

"It's kind of hard not to," Dean replied harshly. "You know Max, hunting is our life. It's us and we're it. If Sam wants nothing to do with it, it feels like he wants nothing to do with us!"

Without waiting for her reply, Dean opened the passenger's side door for her and then moved around to mimic his father's just recent actions. With one last sad glance at the building behind her, Max climbed into the car.

A week later and John had still not calmed down about the Palo Alto incident. He barely spoke to Dean and Max and when he did, it was more likely to be an order to do something, than a request or conversation or even a simple 'hi, how ya doing?' type thing.

Instead of the longed for vacation, they were back in the hunt with a new determination. So it was no surprise that one evening, John returned from contacting a source, to hand Dean a file folder with everything that was known about a poltergeist east of their current position. What did catch them by surprise was that John had another folder, equally as full about another case. After a surprisingly short argument it was decided. Max and Dean were heading east while John was heading south.


	25. Wonderdrug

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to NC-17 for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: R for mention of sexual situations

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: Dean/ Max (At long last!!!)

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Twenty-four

Wonderdrug

_The crowd that whistled and talked laughed and sang ebbed around them. The bright glittering colors of the festivities seemed muted by the half-lit lamps placed strategically around the room. Here and there sparkling gold sequins glinted and then faded. Silver sparkled around throats and fingers to then quickly disappeared as the owner moved to the beat of the pulsing undertone of rhythm. _

_Max was seated at the bar, her eyes hooded as she took in the swirl and noise of the party. She arched her neck gracefully, like a seeking swan. There was a scent in the air tonight, familiar and in its own way comforting. _

_Dean approached her from behind. But it was no surprise to her. She half turned her head, not quite searching for him, just aware that he was there. But even as he sidled up behind her and leaned down to whisper greetings in her ear, she still jumped as his breath tickled in her ear. _

_"Brand new year," he whispered easily to her, the deep tone vibrating through them, they felt more than they heard. _

_Max turned in her seat to smile up at him. "Dean," she breathed, obviously very pleased to see him. _

_"Hey Maxie," Dean returned quietly, his eyes half-hooded as he tilted his head down towards her. His lip quirked up at the corner, not smirking but tempting. As if he had a secret he was waiting for her to ask about. Max breathed in deeply, her chest rising slowly. _

_"So," he continued slowly. "You feel like partying some more, or are you ready to get out of here?"_

_"And why would I want to leave?" Max asked teasingly._

_"Maybe so we can start celebrating something else," Dean brushed a curled strand of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Max leaned her cheek into the palm of his hand for a moment. He leaned forward, his body shifting closer to hers. "It's not every day that you turn eighteen. Happy birthday Maxie."_

_Max sighed happily, her smile beaming up at him. The crowd, the lights, the noise began to fade away. "You remembered?"_

_"How could I forget," Dean groaned softly, moving even closer to her. "We've been looking forward to this for a long time, haven't we?"_

_"A long time," Max agreed, gasping softly as his fingers traced the curve of her jaw. Those fingers followed the line of her neck, tickling at her shoulder as he caressed down her arm to gently take her hand. He pulled her from her stool until she was standing before him. _

_"So do you want to stay here, or do you want to come with me and get your gift?" Dean asked softly, a hint of teasing in his voice. Max blinked slowly. _

_"I guess that depends on what it is," she replied with a small grin. She waited a pause. "So, what is it?"_

_"The only way you're going to find out is if you come with me," Dean tugged lightly on her hand. He began to back away from her, her hand still in his grip. Max allowed him to get an arm's length away, feeling a small tug before she gave in and followed. He never turned around, just kept walking confidently backwards. The room blurred and shifted and neither seemed to notice. Candles replaced the lamps, the scent of spring flowers wafting through the room replaced the harsh scent of the multitude of perfumes from before. Slowing his steps, Dean waited for Max to catch up with him. _

_"So where's my present?" she asked lightly, glancing around the room they were now in. Dean pulled her in closely, lifting the hand he still held to rest on the fabric covering his chest. Max could feel the heavy strong beat as his heart thudded beneath his ribs. _

_Dean glanced down at their entwined hands. "It's right here Max," he whispered. Max stared up at his face, a moment passing before her face softened in understanding. Dean drew in a deep, shakily breath. "I love you Max. I think I always have. I was just waiting…"_

_Max didn't respond, though her face softened as she regarded him intently.__ Dean licked at his lower lip nervously before she dazzled him with a brilliant smile. "This," she smiled up at him, "is most definitely, the best gift I've ever been given. Before he could respond, she had tilted her face up to his, her lips pressing softly against his. Her hand, still in his moved from between them and he let her hand go, wrapping his other arm around her waist. Her now free hand caressed his cheek as her lips nipped softly at the corner of his mouth. Dean pulled back to search her eyes. They held a glint of mischievousness and he couldn't help but smile back. _

_"So do I get to unwrap you now?" she asked impishly. He swallowed once, and then his lips formed their own lazy grin._

_"By all means," he responded, his voice deepening as desire curled through him. "Go right ahead."_

_Running her fingers once again over the broad expanse of his chest, Max slowly slid her fingers under the lapels of the jacket that Dean was wearing. Pushing gently, she moved it off his shoulders. Dean stayed still, hesitant to move, scared that she might stop. Max let the jacket slide off his arms to land in a heap on the floor. Neither cared. Her hands moved back to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one at a time before creeping her fingers down to the next. Dean shivered as the movements tickled his skin through the fabric. When the shirt hung open, she repeated her actions, pushing the material away, to hang off his shoulders. _

_Max tilted her head to the side, leaned in closer to him, delicately inhaling the musky aroma that was purely him. She glanced up shyly at him through fluttering lashes before she very slowly and deliberately placed her lips against his chest, right over his still pounding heart. _

_Dean's hands come up of their own volition to thread through her hair, holding her to him. She chuckled under her breath as her hands moved to begin unbuckling his belt. Her deft fingers made short work of it and Dean could feel the tug and pull as she slid it free from the loops it was worked through. The button of his pants popped under the pressure of her thumb and the delicious sensation of the zipper dragging against his erection made him groan softly. Max echoed him moments later as her tiny hand brushed against his hip as she sought to push the heavy material out of her way. Dean rolled his hips with the motion, his desire swollen cock aching to seek her out. She smiled again, a feminine grin full of promised delights. Dean dropped his head to seek out her full, pouty lips again, his hands grasping gently at strands of hair. _

_Max deepened the kiss after only a moment, her hands still working to push his pants down over his hips. Dean slid his feet out from his shoes and was sliding them out of the way as the material began to pool somewhere around his knees. Max's hand dropped from his hip to slide over the back of his thigh, tugging and he obediently lifted his foot so that he could free himself from the awkward restraint_

_He automatically repeated the motion with his other leg, and then pushed the pants away with his toe. But instead of resuming her quest with her hands, Max held him still and when sure he'd remain, backed a few steps away._

_"Max?" Dean asked huskily, just a little unsure. _

_"You know," she murmured, fingering a strap on her dress. "It occurs to me Dean, that your birthday is coming up, isn't it?"_

_"A few weeks," Dean grunted, his lips curving into another knowing smile. "Does this mean I get to open my gift a little early?" He took one step after her, closer to the bed behind her and she tilted her chin up, challenging._

_"It only seems fair," she nodded slowly. Her finger moved from the strap she'd been idly toying with and pivoted on one foot. The hair that she'd left to curl riotously down her back swung in waves with the movement. In two steps, Dean was pressed against her once more. His right hand caught the length of hair and pushed it out of his way, catching a glimmer of the tattoo emblazoned across her skin. Dean ducked his head and nuzzled the back of her neck. His lips skimmed across the dark ink that was an integral part of who his Max had once been, long ago, before she had become his. _

_His heart flooded with tenderness as she shivered softly at the caress. Those bars seemed to fade from her skin the longer he touched her. The pain and torture and fear her stepfather had embedded in her psyche, beginning to recede under what he'd given her. Family, trust, caring and finally love. _

_Dragging his hand slowly down her cloth covered side; Dean slid his hand around her waist, his hand coming to rest comfortably on her hip as he held her still. He leaned his chest away from her back so that his free hand could reach the tiny zipper that held her dress together._

_The sound was loud in the stillness of the room, their breathes held until the dragging sound stopped, the material peeling away from the skin it had adhered to. Max let her shoulders drop and the thin straps succumbed to a momentary gravity, dropping away from her shoulders. Dean let his eyelids droop as he watched in fascination as the rest of the material slipped away. The deep rose colored gown flowed over his hand at her waist and he slowly pulled back. Max moved restlessly before him, her hips wiggling to shake the dress from her body. Dean groaned, unable to wait when she was moving like that. But one last shimmy and the dress was on the floor. Dean barely noticed the scrap of lace that still remained. _

_Max stepped back to his embrace again, her head still tilted to the side, exposing her neck to him. Her hand back behind her, grasped at his waist, pulling him close. Dean molded his body against hers, gasping in relief_

_His hands smoothed the skin over her ribs before coming up to cup her breasts. He tucked his chin into the curve of her neck, content to just feel her against him. Content to know that they had all the time in the world, no matter how much he wanted her this very second. Content to let his desire build and in turn stoke hers until she was consumed by it. _

_He pressed a kiss under her ear and he felt her cheek twitch up in a smile. He nuzzled her again, feeling oddly protective of her in this state, so tiny in his arms, as if she could break apart at any moment. _

_Dean?" Max whispered suddenly._

_"Yeah baby?" he murmured as his fingers skimmed over hardening nipples. She shuddered so delicately when he did that. _

_"Did you hear that?"_

_Hear what?" he asked, barely paying attention to anything but the sound of her shaky breath, the thrumming of his pulse in his ears. _

_"That."_

_He paused, focusing on the annoyance that suddenly buzzed loudly in the room. Now that she'd pointed it out, it was all he could hear. "Ignore it," he commanded softly. He knew instinctively what it was. _

_"I can't," Max answered plaintively, carefully trying to slip loose from his embrace. "And neither should you." He refused to release her, but Max bent at the waist, searching the bed before her for something. _

_"Max," he whispered, his fingers slipping down to her hips again. They curled inward, desperate to hang on. "Don't go."_

_He could hear the desperation, the pleading in his voice and her response was a tinkle of laughter. He felt his heart drop._

_"I'll always be here," she assured him, leaning back against him once more, her cell phone in her hand. "Always, until the moment you wake. Waiting until you sleep again."_

Max heard the chirp of her phone, soft, since she had turned the volume on the ringer down when they'd gotten back to the motel. John had called them a few days ago to let them know that his case was taking longer than he had thought it would, but that he'd be there for her birthday. She had wanted to keep the phone on just in case he needed them.

But picking it up, she frowned. It wasn't her Dad calling; it was an unfamiliar number, with a California area code. She switched the phone on immediately. "Hello?"

"Hey Max," came her brother's voice. Max's frown deepened and she heard a much closer snort. She glanced across the short distance from her bed to her brother's. Dean was blinking up at her, a displeased frown on his face.

"Hey Sammy," she returned softly. "What's going on?" _'Sorry,'_ she mouthed to her eldest brother. Dean's eyes fluttered close and he grunted in acknowledgement.

"Nothing," Sam chirped. "Can't I call and wish my baby sister a Happy New Year?"

"Thanks," Max murmured, a smile tugging at her lips. "But Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"It's really, really late here," she informed him. There was a pause on the other end.

"Oh crap," he apologized sheepishly. "I didn't think about the time difference. It's only one here. I thought you guys would still be up, celebrating the New Year."

"Dean and I were at a party earlier," Max chuckled. "After the ball dropped it all got kind of boring so we headed back to our room."

"What about Dad?" Sam asked cautiously.

"He's out on another case," Max supplied. "He's meeting us, well later today actually." An interesting thought occurred to her and she just had to ask. "Sam? Are you drunk?"

"Not really," came the ready admission. Max giggled slightly under her breath. "Hang on a sec." There was a muffled conversation before he came back on the line. "So the other reason I called, was to let you know that I sent you a birthday gift. It should be waiting at the Post Office in Lawrence."

"Thanks," Max replied succinctly, and then let her curiosity get the better of her. "Who was that?"

"Who was what?"

"That person you were just talking to," Max clarified.

"A friend," Sam evaded.

"A female friend?" Max asked slyly. She heard her brother sigh, the noise suddenly echoed in the room. She glanced over at Dean again, to see his eyes slitted open, keeping a hazy track on her end of the conversation. She gave him a small grin which he returned briefly.

"Uh, yeah."

"And does this female friend have a name?"

"It's Jess," Sam heaved another sigh. "Jessica Moore."

"Oh look out world!" Max teased. "Our Sammy's finally getting' busy!" She heard the snort from Dean followed by a sleepy chuckle.

"Hey!" Sam protested immediately. "Quit it! We're not even like that."

"Really?" Max scoffed. "That is so lame Sam."

"No seriously," Sam interjected. "Look, we just have a class together and we know some of the same people. And we all decided to come to this party together."

"And when the clock changed at midnight, which Cinderella were you kissing, oh Charming One?"

There was a wry chuckle. "You are strange," Sam insisted. "You know what, go back to sleep. I'll call you tomorrow when I can argue more coherently."

"You mean when you're sober," Max corrected gently, still teasing. "And I wasn't asleep in the first place."

"Do you ever sleep anymore?" Sam demanded suddenly.

"Only when Dad and Dean start lecturing me about the evils of dating," Max chuckled, wrinkling her nose at her half-awake brother. He rolled his eyes. "But anyway, I'll talk to you tomorrow then. Or did you mean later today?"

"Better make it tomorrow," Sam grunted.

"It's going to take you that long to sober up?" Max taunted.

"No," Sam protested vehemently, and then his tone softened marginally. "Well… maybe."

"I love you Sam," Max laughed. "I'll talk to you later."

"Bye Max."

She hung up the phone and returned it to the bedside table. Noticing that she'd lost the page in the book that she was reading, she debated trying to find it again, or forcing some shut eye.

"Hey," the word came soft and sleepily. She glanced over at Dean, his face half buried still in his pillow.

"Yeah?"

"Happy Birthday, Maxie."

"Thank you," she smiled gently at him. He looked so… much like a little boy with his eyes half-closed and his hair all tousled. "Go back to sleep."

"Mm'kay," he complied and he was out even before she'd had a chance to snap off the lamp.

By the time John finally arrived, Dean and Max were nearly starving. He'd been in contact all day while he drove to meet them, offering up lame excuse after lame excuse to Max. Dean had a better idea of what his father was up to, but all the same, he was a little ticked that his father had cut things so close. The man had made a promise to be there for Max's eighteenth birthday and come hell or high water, he was going to keep it.

Finally, when he was about half an hour out, he'd called the kids to go ahead and find a restaurant and he'd just meet them there. Dean had allowed Max to choose and they were now waiting at a mellow family dining establishment that boasted all you could eat seafood. And not only were they waiting on John, but the appetizer that they hoped would tide them over until he arrived.

"Gah," Max groaned, fiddling with the ice in her soft drink. "I wish they'd hurry up."

"I know," Dean sympathized. "Really crappy service here."

"It's not that bad," Max grimaced, glancing around at all the tables. "They're just busy." Here or there sat a few empty tables. But the rest were filled, mostly by noisy families. Dean had tried to convince her to choose something else, but she was in the mood for seafood. Occasionally one saw just couples and until John arrived, she surmised that when people looked at her and Dean, that was what they saw as well. Just a happy young couple in a back corner combo booth/ table, just out for an evening meal.

It was just as the waiter brought out the combo appetizer platter that John finally arrived. Dean glanced up as the waiter brought the food with a small apology on his lips, his gaze slid past the guy momentarily and he saw his father approach. John stopped and spoke with the waiting hostess at the front, gestured to the kids and the woman nodded. Max, who had been reaching for a spicy wing, looked up in concern at her brother.

"Food Dean," she prompted. "Come on. Eat!"

"Dad's here," he warned.

"Good," was all she could say.

John stood back as the waiter moved away from the table. He caught sight of John waiting and realized at once that John was the last member of the party. "Can I get a coffee please?" John asked quietly. The waiter, Tom, by name nodded and headed off back to work. John turned to the kids.

"Hey Max," he greeted. Max smiled up at him, unable to answer with her mouth full. He turned to his son. "Come with me Dean."

Dean's jaw gaped slightly and he gestured at the platter. "Dad!" he half-whined. "Food just got here."

"It'll keep," John smirked. "And this'll just take a minute." He didn't wait to see if Dean would comply. He simply turned and walked back to the doors he'd just entered minutes ago. Dean let out a long suffering sigh while sending a semi-evil glare at his father's back.

"Here," Max giggled, holding up a cheesy nacho, piled with beef, lettuce, salsa and sour cream. Dean obligingly opened his mouth to take it, then stood, his hand catching at the morsel.

"You're an angel," he mumbled through the food, before taking off after his father. "Don't eat it all!"

When he reached the outer doors, he saw that John had been able to park across the street. He was at the truck and Dean felt slightly apprehensive. He checked the traffic then jay-walked across the street. He came up to the vehicle just as John began removing brown paper covered boxes.

"What's this?" he demanded. John grinned at his son.

"Presents," he replied succinctly.

"How much crap did you get her?" Dean demanded incredulously, taking in the numerous packages.

"Just a couple things," John replied mildly. "I told you I was stopping by the post office to see if Sam had sent her anything."

"Yeah," Dean scoffed. "He called us at three in the morning today to tell her that he had." He continued to explain, having caught his father's disbelieving stare. "He was "slightly tipsy"," Dean made air quotes, "and forgot about the time difference."

"Uh huh," John chuckled. "Well, it wasn't just Sam. I swung by Bobby's place a while ago and he had a little something for her. And there were a couple boxes from Sam, a letter from Molly, some cards I think and let's see, what else. There was a package from Jim and some stuff from some friends of hers."

"Jeeze," Dean sighed. "She just has all the luck." Admittedly, he was slightly jealous of the way that Max was able to make and keep her friends. He understood about Jim, Bobby and Molly. But he caught sight of Justine's name, and Max hadn't seen her in like, three years. And there was a vaguely familiar name that Dean didn't recognize at all. There was something from that moony eyed kid with the telekinetic sister.

"That's why I needed you out here," John smiled as he began stacking packages in his son's arms. "Can't carry all this stuff myself."

"Why didn't you just wait until we got back to the motel?" Dean demanded as he father pulled out a few more bags, before slamming the passenger door shut.

"Because then we don't have to clean up all the paper and shit," John shrugged. He led Dean back across the street and into the restaurant. There was a hesitant smile on the hostess' face as she took them in. "My daughter's birthday," John explained briefly as he walked by her. She gave an understanding murmur and went back to helping other customers.

Max sat in her seat, eying the portion of food still on the plate. She'd been tempted to keep eating, saving some food for Dad and Dean. But she felt kind of awkward, sitting there on her own, eating. So after the wing, she'd left the rest alone, hoping they wouldn't take overly long. And they didn't. She heard their voices returning just a few minutes later. She turned in her seat and her mouth formed an 'oh' of surprise. Both their arms were loaded down with boxes and a few bags.

"What's this?" she demanded when John stopped at the table.

"It's your birthday party," He grinned. "What did you think it was? Scoot over."

Max scooted over on the bench seat so that John could set the two bags he had beside her. He set the boxes on the far side of the table, easily within her reach and then turned to take the packages from Dean. While his son wasn't drowning in boxes, there were still a good number of them, one of which was extremely heavy.

Grateful that he didn't have to carry the boxes any further, Dean returned to his seat, extremely pleased to see that Max had waited for them. He pulled out the chair beside him for their father, since John had placed all the other packages next to Max. John sank down into it and reached for the unclaimed cup of coffee that he assumed must be his, especially since Dean and Max already had drinks before them.

In seconds, the waiter had returned expectantly, his pen and order pad waiting. John wasn't particularly fussy and glanced over the menu waiting there with a practiced eye. He let Dean and Max order their main dishes before giving his own request. As soon as Tom returned to the kitchen to put in the order, John joined Dean in picking out something from the combo platter to munch on. He'd driven straight through that day, with only necessary pit stops.

"So this is all for me?" Max asked disbelievingly. John nodded.

"I finished up about when I expected to," he explained, a twinkle in his eyes. "So I figured I'd swing over and pick up a few things. And Bobby called, so I had to head over to his place as well. He popped a nacho in his mouth, dusted off his hands and leaned back in his seat. Once he'd swallowed, he waved a negligent hand towards the bag of mail. "I didn't have a chance to sort the mail, so you might find some stuff of ours in there. But I should think the cards would be pretty easy to pick out."

"Go ahead," Dean urged, scooping up some barbecue sauce with his finger that had run off a buffalo wing. "May as well keep us occupied while we wait for the rest of the food."

Max laughed and reached for the napkin beside her plate. She wiped her fingers off, determined not to get her cards greasy. She dipped into the bag and upon seeing the multitude of mail, wondered if she should dump it on the table. Deciding against deluging their eating surface, she instead brought out a handful and quickly began separating them into three piles. The post office had obligingly wrapped some bundles with elastic bands. She removed these and used them to hold together John and Dean's piles. Occasionally, one or the other of the men would look at something they were interested in, but for the most part, their mail could wait.

Once she'd separated things, she stuffed John and Dean's piles neatly back into the sack and then quickly re-sorted her pile. All the magazines, flyers, credit card offers and sundry other tings that post office boxes attracted, were put back. But that still left her with a nice pile of letters and cards.

"Here's Molly's," she announced, as she slid her finger under the corner of the sealed flap.

"There's a package that goes with it, I think," John gestured to the pile. He reached across the table and located the moderate sized, lightweight box. Max smiled her thanks and pulled the card from the envelope. As she opened it, something slipped out that she caught automatically. Not glancing at it, she read the card, a pleased grin searing across her face.

"She wants us to try and come visit this summer if we can," Max announced. Dean and John nodded. They had a standing invitation with the woman. Max brought the sheet of heavier paper up to see and pursed her lips. "Nice! A gift certificate to that huge ass book store chain." She tucked the certificate back into the card and reached for the package that went with it. It was just then Tom came back, carrying what looked to be a large box. Max's startled eyes darted to her family, but they were as mystified as she.

"For the paper and stuff," Tom grinned as he set a large empty box next to Max. "I thought it'd look better than putting one of our trash bins next to you. The group laughed and Max obligingly dumped the brown paper in it as she unwrapped the box Molly had sent. Inside were two packages. The larger was a hand knit sweater set, done in white with silver metallic thread shot through it. The smaller was a brooch that Molly had owned that Max had admired a few times. She was surprised to see it until she read the note that Molly had sent with it, explaining that none of her kids were interested in having it and Molly knew how much Max liked it. And since the colors were set off wonderfully by the white yarn she'd used, she hoped Max liked it. And she did, though she wasn't sure where she'd end up wearing it. It was too nice for the majority of the work they did. She shared that thought with John and Dean, then laughed over the sudden thought of being all dressed up like some snooty lawyer, with a set of smarmy glasses on her face, conning her way to some information. The guys smiled indulgently and waited for her to open the next package.

It took a little while to get through the rest of the envelopes. She seemed to have a knack at making friends everywhere they stopped. And she had become an unfailing pen pal to a lot of troubled kids. From her friend Justine, there was a clothing chain gift certificate. From Jack, the young man from Rutland, there was another CD of songs that he and his band had recorded, some covers, some new stuff. A lot of greetings and good wishes.

Max had just opened the package from Bobby when their main meals arrived. She stopped working at the box and paused to dig into her shrimp scampi. She was deliberately drawing this out, both males knew, but they didn't mind. They were just glad to see her really enjoying herself.

"So what did Bobby get you?" John asked, once they'd downed a few mouthfuls of food.

Max, who was carefully removing the tape from the edges of the small box, shrugged. Once she'd opened it, the first thing that caught her eye was a thin pile of photographs. Puzzled, she drew them out, but once she realized what the subject of the pictures was, another smile lit her face. She flipped through the four photographs. "Cool! I didn't know that he was taking pictures that day," she exclaimed. She handed the pictures to John who smiled immediately at the sight of the day that Bobby had conned the kids into giving Rumsfeld a long overdue bath. John nudged Dean with his elbow, letting him see the picture. It was just typical that his eldest had been hiding behind a towel, to avoid the dog's splashing, so most of his face was hidden. Otherwise, it was a really good shot of Sam and Max. Behind that were pictures of Max training the puppy.

"Hey," Dean grinned. "There's a cover story for ya. Max Winchester, professional traveling pet trainer."

"Since Bobby never actually paid me for it, you could hardly call me a professional," Max groaned. Her fingers were digging out the tissue wrapped portion of the package. Her nimble fingers unwound the massive amounts of thin paper and she gave an appreciative grunt. "Oh nice. This was sweet of him." She held up the necklace that had fallen into her hand.

"For protection," John nodded, seeing the pentagram design.

"And the cord is long enough that I can wear it under my shirt if I want," Max nodded. She took a moment to do exactly that. Once done, she took another few bites of scampi, and then laid the photos back in the box to savor again later.

"Here, open Jim's," John urged, pushing another smaller box towards his daughter. Max complied and wasn't surprised by the sweet natured missive or the Celtic knot necklace. It was a standard gift, some form of protection from the Pastor, when members of his "special" flock reached the age of adulthood. Max had an inkling of what the gift would be because both Sam and Dean had received one as well. And as far as Max knew, Dean had never taken his off since the day it had arrived. And while Dean's was in gold, the pastor seemed to think that silver was more appropriate for her.

"I don't know Dad," she grumbled. "I'm starting to wonder that everyone is worried that now that I've hit eighteen I'm gonna go all Wild Bunch on ya."

The two men in her life chuckled over that. John waved a hand, and then reached for his coffee. "No, I told you before; kids have a certain amount of immunity to things."

"Although in some cases it's being a kid that draws the nasties in," Dean interrupted.

"But once you reach adulthood, you're on your own, so to speak," John finished.

"I know," Max tilted her head to the side. Like Bobby's gift, she knew she should put the necklace on. But wearing two necklaces of such different makes seemed a little like overkill.

"Bobby did say that you didn't have to wear that like a necklace, if you don't want to," John informed her. "You can shorten the cord and wear it a different way. Just as long as it gets worn."

"Oh cool," Max wrinkled her nose in pleasure, already envisioning how to turn it into an anklet or bracelet. Probably an anklet, since that way she could tuck it into her boots with no fear of losing it or having it torn off.

Soon enough, dinner and dessert had been finished and Max had only the family gifts left. Since Sam's were still sitting near enough, she decided to open those first. Dean and John, who'd been relaxing after sating themselves on the food, leaned forward marginally, interested in seeing what Sam had picked out for his little sister.

Max pulled the larger package towards herself and tore into the package. When she caught a glimpse of what was inside, she laughed a little and shook her head.

"What?" Dean demanded. "What is it?"

"It's not a birthday present," Max mumbled, then grinned up at the males. "A couple weeks ago Sam and I were talking about the college courses he took last semester. Some of them sounded interesting, so he promised that he'd send me the course books when he was done with them, in case I wanted to look them over." That said she pulled out one of the course manuals. There was a post-it note attached to the top of it and she read it quickly. "Oh," she murmured. "Sam also found a few that the book store wouldn't take back. Advanced math and an art history book. And genetics. Excellent!"

John and Dean exchanged mildly alarmed looks. John cleared his throat and Max glanced up from where she was perusing the index of the art book.

"Is that something you're interested in?" John asked carefully, mindful of keeping his tone neutral. He sure as hell wasn't going to drive another child away by freaking out at this ambition towards normality. Sometimes it took him a while, but he did learn from his mistakes.

Max frowned, knowing exactly what they were worried about. "Not really," she sighed. "I mean, I really don't like the idea of sitting in classes day after day, taking notes and doing assignments when I could be out doing other far more important things." Both men breathed a quick sigh of relief. "But on the other hand," Max continued and noticed dryly, the surge of panic in their eyes. "We also talked about the possibility of me taking a few online courses through one of the satellite colleges."

"Online?" John repeated.

"Hey that'd be kind of cool," Dean enthused. Given the choice between Max heading off to college in Sam's footsteps, or indulging her interest with learning via the internet, Dean knew exactly what he'd prefer. "What sort of stuff can you sign up for?"

"Well you've seen those ads on TV," Max reminded him. "Business degrees, secretarial stuff. I suppose if you looked hard enough, you could find just about anything you wanted to."

"And is that what you want to do?" John teased. "Become a secretary?"

"Oh hell no," Max giggled. "Couldn't you just see it? The first time my boss told me to make coffee, I'd tell him where to stuff it." They all shared a good laugh over that. She was right. The Winchester clan was a little too independent for the type of character required to work in the more mundane fields. Max set her books aside and reached for the other package Sam had sent. It was opened just as quickly as the others and Max smiled when she saw it. "This seems to be my night for jewelry," she commented as she lifted the silver charm bracelet from its moorings. Sam seemed to have already gone ahead and bought some charms to go with it. Max fingered the little silver motorcycle as she looked over what Sam had chosen as memorials of their life.

Each one brought a smile to her face. But finally, she set it aside and looked up expectantly at her father and brother. John grinned and pushed the two boxes nearest him towards her.

"No more jewelry," he promised her with a small grunt.

"It's okay," Max chuckled. "I think I could like jewelry. But other stuff is good too. So," she drawled as she began unwrapping the paper on the smaller box. "Practical, pretty, functional or fun?"

"Open them and find out," John shrugged. He shared a glance with Dean, though neither had told the other what they'd planned on getting the girl. It took mere moments and then she was pulling a non-descript white box out. She arched an eyebrow at her father, until she noticed a designer make and model on it. Then she tore into it, excited.

"You got me that phone I wanted," she crowed as she pulled out the sleekly designed phone that she had been bugging her father for. She truly had thought that he hadn't been listening. Most especially since she already had a cell phone.

"Well," John sighed. "You made a good point about all the extra features that it had. And they threw in the hands free set with it." He motioned to the smaller package that had fallen out. "And the guy at the store said that you can set it to answer automatically when you're using that thing. That way, we can keep in touch with you without you having to pull over."

Max seemed to be barely listening as she studied over the new phone. She knew that John wouldn't have gotten her the phone if he really didn't think it practical. It was turning into something of a habit with them lately. They could only keep their cell phone plans for so long before someone clued in to the fact that the owner wasn't quite on the up and up, especially since they were paying for them for the most part with their fake credit cards. She figured that it must be about time for her to do the same. And even as she thought it, she caught sight of the little card included that listed her new number. She'd have to remember to give it to Sam when she called him the next day to thank him for the gifts.

"Are you gonna finish opening things, or have you had enough?" Dean teased. Max glanced up, startled it seemed at the reminder that there was still more. She flashed a smile his way before carefully setting the cell phone back down. The second package from John, wrapped in his exacting manner, was flat and large and if she had to guess, she would have said that it was clothing of some kind.

It was, but certainly not what she'd been expecting. When she pulled the camel colored suede coat from the box, her eyes went large. "Oh Dad," she breathed, holding it up to herself and looking over the way the material shimmered in the slight ripples of folds. "It's gorgeous."

"You like it then?" John asked, letting out a sigh of relief. "I kept the receipt, just in case…"

"Oh no," Max shook her head, and then pushed back her chair to stand up. "It's perfect." Making sure she was clear of the table, she swung the coat around her, pulling it on. As John had hoped, it fit perfectly. Max smoothed the material against her midsection, then began buttoning it up. Once accomplished, she pivoted around and glanced over her shoulder, then turned to face her family once more. "How does it look?"

"Amazing," Dean answered softly, his eyes gleaming. Max returned to her seat and held her arm out to her father.

"Can you cut the tags off please?" she asked sweetly. John complied, using the steak knife still on his plate. Once she'd removed the tiny bits of plastic, she busied herself smoothing her fingers up and down one arm, grinning in abandonment at the textured feel of the refined material.

"Okay," Dean cleared his throat and sitting up straight. His hand delved into the inner pocket of his coat that was hanging off the back of his seat. "Unless Dad has anything else," he paused while his father shook his head, "then last gift." He pushed a small box across the table. "Hope you like it."

Max picked up the unwrapped box, a puzzled frown on her face, like she was trying to remember something. Slowly, she pulled the white ribbon that had been tied around it to keep it shut. Once she worked off the top, she sucked in her breath, her eyes going wide before they darted up to her brother. "How did you-?" she began. She shook her head helplessly. "I only looked at these, for like, a second. And that was almost a year ago."

John was leaning forward, trying to appear casual, though he was being gnawed at by his curiosity.

"Well yeah," Dean half-shrugged. "But when_ you_ actually look at stuff like that for that long, it must have meant something," he continued enigmatically. He grinned at his little sister. "So, did I do good?"

"Beyond good," Max giggled. "I still can't believe…" At that point she once more pushed her chair away, this time coming around to hug her brother fiercely. And then John saw what all the fuss was about. Clenched tightly in her hand was a jeweler's box, containing of all things, a pair of diamond earrings. His eyes narrowed at that brief flash.

"Oh!" Max straightened up, pushing away from her brother. "I have to go try them on. I'll be right back." She headed away from them, presumably towards the bathroom. John waited until she was out of earshot before rounding on his son.

"You bought her earrings?" he demanded softly. Dean returned his gaze that had been following Max's progress, back to his father.

"What?" he demanded after a moment, growing uncomfortable under his father's direct stare.

"Diamond earrings?" John reiterated. John searched his son's earnest face. Didn't the boy realize that that wasn't the sort of gift that a brother usually bought for his sister?

"What?" Dean demanded again. "You saw her Dad. She loves 'em. And It's not like she has a lot of really nice stuff. I just thought she might like to have something like that…" he trailed off, trying to justify the purchase. Before John could respond, Max had returned. She retook her seat and carefully tucked her hair behind her ears so they could get a good look.

John realized that with the way Max's eyes were glowing, she didn't really need that approval. There was no way in hell that he'd be able to convince her that she shouldn't keep them, even if he had an excuse as to why.

"So how do they look?" Max asked impishly, swinging her head slightly so that the dangling pieces swung to and fro.

"Perfect," Dean assured her immediately, his grin matching her own.

John knew he mumbled something, hoping that he sounded pleased, though in a way, he was anything but. When his son reached out to squeeze Max's hand and the pair shared a meaningful moment, the clarity of the choice of this gift shot through John's brain. He struggled with it for a moment before finally admitting what he'd been trying to avoid seeing. Unless he was in hundreds of ways mistaken, Dean had just thoroughly and irrevocably marked his territory. The most prominent question that remained in his brain was… did Dean even realize what he had done?

Dean pressed his foot a little harder on the accelerator. He could admit to himself that despite everything that had just happened, he was in a pretty damn good mood. Granted, an old sort of friend of the family had died, but he could deal with that. The only memories he really had of the guy were him palling around with his dad after work. It was the guy's mom that really held the place in Dean's heart, given that she used to stuff him and Sammy full of cookies while she was babysitting them.

But right now, he had his car, his tunes, the windows rolled down. He was heading to California, land of sunshine to celebrate his birthday the next day with his family. He smirked in the emptiness of the car. Maybe he'd even let Max talk him into stopping by to see Sammy and actually stopping and talking to the kid this go around.

A sign on the highway caught his attention. Only ten more miles until he hit the Californian border. Then on to Los Angeles. From what his dad had said, John and Max were coming up from Arizona. Less distance than he had to travel, so they'd probably make it to their meeting point before he did, but that was okay.

He still wasn't sure why John had taken Max with him on this last hunt. According to what she'd said it was a simple salt and burn. Hell, maybe the old man missed her company. Dean hated to admit it, but he knew the feeling well this last go around. Yeah, he was definitely eager to see them.

He slowed down the Impala minutely as he crossed over the border, moving one hand from the wheel to roll down his window. Once it was al the way down, he turned his head slightly to inhale deeply the aroma that the state seemed to permeate every time he was in it.

With a full on smile, Dean once again accelerated. Yeah, things were definitely a lot greener in these pastures.

John sat at the bar he'd chosen to meet Dean in, perusing the information he'd garnered earlier that afternoon. He and Max had pulled into town just that afternoon. They'd debated choosing a motel and Max's crankiness had been the deciding factor. But after an hour long nap, she'd been up and bouncing around, raring to go. They'd gotten dinner and John was yet again amazed by the amount of energy running through his daughter. Some of it translated into chattiness, talking about their current case in the city and what John had found out, what she had gotten Dean for his birthday, the case they should go to next and a whole load of other things that John could barely keep up with. Some of the energy however, translated into flirting. She flirted with the waiter. She caught the eye of another patron. She added a deliberate wiggle to her walk as they headed back out to the truck. As much as it annoyed and yes, worried John, he knew that there wasn't really a lot he could do about it. The girl was an adult now. At least she'd proved to him over the years that she did have a good lot of sense and a fairly level head most of the time. If she felt like flirting, then he'd let her flirt. He'd just grit his teeth and try not to think about what those perverted little scumbags were most likely thinking about doing to his daughter. Yep, he'd just grit his teeth and have another beer.

John watched covertly, turning slightly in his seat to do so as Max played a game of pool with a young man. As far as he could tell, the kid was being polite. When he'd first approached Max, the kid had said something that had caused Max to laugh uproariously. She'd gestured to him and John had heard the words 'my dad' ring out of her mouth. Well, that at least kept the kid from getting too rambunctious. He just hoped that she got this out of her system before Dean arrived. There were a number of ways that could go and he really didn't want to contemplate any of them.

Which was one of the reasons why he'd insisted on taking Max with him on this last hunt. He wanted to get a little time and distance between the two. It wasn't so much that he was worried, just that the situation was fraught with potential disaster. It also gave him time to think over what he instinctively had picked up on. To figure out how he felt about it. Time to gauge where Max was at, which was definitely nowhere close to what Dean was up to. He just hoped that Dean had managed to cool his… ardor somewhat.

Of course it was too much to hope for, since Dean and Max called each other all the time. Sometimes three or four times a day just to check in with each other and chat.

John just hoped and prayed that they got out of here tonight without any major hissy fits, bar fights or God forbid, gunplay.

"Hey Dad!" his eldest son's greeting stung him like a wasp suddenly. John hadn't even realized that the kid was there; his thoughts had been so busily centered on the immediate future. But it was time to sink or swim.

"Hey Dean," John grinned. "Beer?" Dean nodded and slid into the stool next to his father's. John motioned at the bartender who obligingly brought two more beers. Dean took a long pull, and then set his back on the counter.

"Where's Max?" he asked, his tone sounding overeager to John's ears.

"Oh, she's around," he replied as casually as he could. "She was playing pool for a while." Both men turned toward the pool table, which was now surrounded by some larger, burlier males.

"I'm right here," her voice piped up from John's right. They swiveled around,

Standing to his right, was Max and directly behind her was the young man that John had seen her with earlier. He flashed a quick look at his son, to see Dean's eyes narrowing dangerously. But it disappeared the moment Max stepped around him to greet her brother.

"Hey Dean," she smiled. Dean accepted her hug with one arm around her shoulder.

"Hey Maxie," he returned, though John could just hear the slight edge to his voice. "Who's your friend?"

Max slipped from his arm and gestured to the young man. "This is Brian. He's gonna teach me how to play foosball."

The young man, Brian, smiled at them and nodded politely to John. "Sir." His attention was caught as the bartender returned with his order. A beer and a soft drink. John nodded as politely as he could muster.

"Come on," Max ordered, catching the guy's wrist and dragging him off. "Let's go."

Dean and John watched the pair's progression, winding through various groups that were in their way until they reached the foosball table. "Well that was rude," Dean grunted, picking up his beer again.

"What was?" John half-smiled and tried to hide it.

"Could have at least given us a chance to talk to him," Dean shrugged, carefully avoiding his father's eyes. "You know, find out what kind of sleazebag is hitting on a teenage girl."

John laughed involuntarily and hastily turned it into a cough. "She's eighteen Dean," he protested good-naturedly. "It's not like the cops are going bust in here and arrest him for child molestation." He eyed his son carefully. "Besides, this is good for her. She can't spend all her time cooped up with us. Admit it; it'd be enough to drive anyone batty."

"What's wrong with us?" Dean demanded indignantly.

"Nothing," John shrugged. "But a girl can get pretty sick of being around her father and her brother twenty-four seven." That point hit him, John realized as his son's shoulders sagged a little. "So," John drawled, looking to distract Dean from the drama his son seemed bent on creating. "What do you want to do for your birthday?"

Dean swung around, leaning back against the counter. He took another thoughtful pull from his beer bottle. "Dunno," he mumbled. "Same as usual, I guess." Suddenly he straightened up. "What the hell?"

John turned his head quickly, wondering what had upset his son now. "What?"

"What the hell is she playing at?" Dean demanded indignantly. John focused through the multitude of people to see his daughter leaning over the foosball table, with Brian behind her, his hands guiding her arms. John could see space between the pair, obviously Brian wasn't going to get too frisky with Max's father and older brother there watching over her. But still, he had to quash his own momentary urge to give the kid a pointed lesson in acceptable behavior.

"If Max doesn't like it, she'll take care of it," he told his son pointedly, glaring at him. "Dean, leave it alone!" His voice was raised imperceptibly, but he knew from the way Dean's butt hit the stool again, that he'd managed to inject enough authority into his voice to help snap Dean out of this. He leaned in closer to the boy. "She's not doing anything that thousands of other young women haven't done. She has met someone she likes and is getting to know him. And right now, given the choice of doing it in front of me or out on some back road, I sure as hell know what I prefer. And you are not helping the situation by getting pissy about it!"

John could see by the flush on Dean's cheeks and the guilty evasion of the eyes that he'd made his point. But he also realized that it wasn't hitting deeply enough. They continued to try and talk of other mundane things, like the solo hunt Dean had been on. But it wasn't enough. He noticed the furtive glances that Dean sent Max's way. It was like watching an animal guarding its mate from potential threat. He could literally see Dean bristle every time Brian or even some random male passed close by her.

John was definitely fighting a losing battle. The question was, did he keep up this rearguard action, or did he give in as gracefully as he could and deal with the fallout when it came?

"Oh that's just too fucking much!" Dean exclaimed. "Even you can't let him get away with that!"

Okay, fallout time.

"What's going on now?" John asked wearily, his shoulders slightly hunched as he toyed with the rim of his beer bottle.

"He's letting her drink," Dean squawked. John rolled his eyes.

"Not like it's gonna kill her," he grumbled.

"That's it," Dean declared, rising from his stool seat. "I'm taking her home."

He only made it two steps before John's arm shot out to drag him to a stop. Dean turned to angrily make his case, only to be presented with a motel key and a resigned looking father.

"Room Six," was all John said before returning to the drink he was nursing.

Dean hesitated a moment. There was something about his father's posture that nagged at him for a moment. He studied the older man, trying to decipher what it was. Suddenly it hit him. The defeated slouch of John's shoulders. Dean was about to ask his old man what the hell he was moping about, when a familiar laugh rang out and his head snapped towards Max's direction again. Figuring that he could deal with his father's issues later, he resumed his course to his younger sibling.

"Okay," he stated as equanimitably as he could manage, reaching for the beer bottle that Max was tipping up to her mouth. "That's about enough of that."

"Dean!" Max protested as the bottle was unceremoniously yanked from her hand.

"Play time is over kiddies," Dean announced, setting the bottle on the rim of the foosball table. He caught Max's elbow as she rounded on him. "Let's go."

"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded of him, angry.

"We're going home," he told her pointedly.

"Why?" Max snarled. "What is your problem?" She twisted her arm, slipping free of his pinching grasp. Dean wisely pointed at the bottle on the table.

"That's my problem," he snarled back. "Or have you forgotten that you're not quite legal yet?"

"Really?" Max scoffed. She thrust her chin out defiantly, crossing her arms over her chest. "You, dear big brother, you are going to lecture me on legalities?"

Dean's face darkened and he shot a warning look at Brian. "If you like living, you'll have the good sense to vamanos your ass out of here. Now!"

The quiet, serious tone that the warning was delivered in had the immediate effect of pushing the kid back.

"Yeah, I- uh, I'll just go," Brian stammered. "There, I'll, um, yeah." And with that the kid fled.

"You know, I was talking to him," Max pointed out with a low growl.

"Don't care," Dean snarked back shortly. Once again he hooked her under the elbow and started to forcibly drag her from the sphere of bad influence. "We're leaving."

"I don't want to," Max protested shrilly. It was enough to make some patrons look over in concern. Dean, catching those dark glances, stopped and turned to address her.

"Max, you can either come now, or I swear to God I will throw you over my shoulder," he stated, his voice deep, quiet and low. "What's it going to be?" For a moment, he thought he would have to go through with his threat, but she finally gave in, much less gracefully than usual. But at least she headed out of the bar.

"What about Dad?" she demanded once they were in the slightly cooler atmosphere of the parking lot.

"He's got his own ride," Dean shrugged, unlocking the Impala's passenger side for her. "Get in." Max threw him another glare but did as he commanded. Dean shut the door behind her and quickly made his way around the vehicle. For some reason, he really didn't feel like sticking around this place.

"Do you even know where you're going?" Max demanded haughtily as Dean was deciding which way to turn. He sent her a withering glare, and then pulled out onto the street. He knew that the motel his father had chosen wouldn't be too far away. And since the address was listed on the motel keychain, it wouldn't be too hard to find.

"Shut up," Dean warned, definitely not in the mood for verbal warfare.

"No, I won't shut up," Max retorted, anger causing a heightened flush in her cheeks. "What the hell is wrong with you Dean? Did you suddenly flush your brain down the toilet? Nobody appreciates the cave man tactics."

"What the hell is wrong with me?" he flared at the slur. "What the hell is wrong with you? What, you hit eighteen and suddenly you're-!" He cut himself off. Saying it out loud, admitting it would mean that he had to face it.

"That I'm what?" Max demanded, pushing hard to find out the cause of this unfamiliar attitude in her brother. "Growing up? Having a life outside of you and Dad? What? What the hell have I done that is so vile?"

"Nothing," Dean protested, determinedly avoiding looking at her. If he didn't look at her, then he wouldn't see the hurt in her eyes. If he didn't see the hurt in her eyes, then he could hang on to this anger. Because if he didn't hang onto this anger, Dean was afraid to contemplate what lie underneath. "Just… let me drive."

There was a moment of silence before his sister huffed out her response.

"Fine!"

The rest of the drive was made in silence. Max didn't bother to point out that there was a much faster, shorter route that Dean could have taken. If he wanted to drive aimlessly around the city, that was fine by her. Just fine. All she had to do was concentrate on anything but why he was acting like such a jerk. Concentrate on anything but the rigid set of his jaw that told her he was clenching his teeth together. Concentrate on anything but the way his green eyes glittered with suppressed rage. Max inhaled sharply, suddenly wishing that he'd hurry up and get to the motel where she could hopefully disappear. She could hurry into the motel room that John had gotten for them and shut herself away from Dean.

_'Away from the forbidden fruit?'_ her mind sang out gleefully. Max inhaled sharply. Damn it! She had been fighting this all day. Ever since that morning, waking up drenched in sweat with his name hovering on her lips. She'd bitten so hard she'd nearly drawn blood on her lower lip. Thank God John hadn't noticed anything amiss right then.

The moment the Impala reached the parking lot and rolled to a stop, Max vaulted from the car. In long strides, she was able to make it to their room, open the door and slam it shut behind her. She heard Dean's car door slam shut a moment later and a moment of panic seized her. Sitting in the car, his anger sending testosterone thrumming through his body had been a dizzying experience. She wasn't sure she could restrain herself if he got close again. She dashed to the bathroom, stripping her top button-up shirt in the process. In just her camisole and jeans, she barely even registered that she had left her jean jacket at the bar. She shut the door behind her, an added measure of protection. She twisted the tap at the sink for a rush of ice cold water, running her wrists under the numbing blast. When that wasn't enough she splashed it over her face.

She caught sight of her heated body in the chipped mirror. Her hands crept up to gauge the depth of this heat, running teasingly light over her skin, up to her face where the blush had begun anew.

'This is Dean!' she reminded herself angrily. 'My older brother Dean. Lusting after him is wrong.'

_'Only if he really was your brother,' _the voice in her mind taunted. _'Remember, forbidden fruit is always the sweetest.'_

'No!' Max thought angrily. 'Not fruit. Just forbidden.'

_'You know one little taste wouldn't hurt,'_ the voice continued, urging her on. _'Little kitty wants to satisfy her curiosity, right?"_

"Curiosity killed the cat," she murmured, half angry, half petulant.

_'You've got nine lives!'_

"Oh God," Max groaned, realizing that she was starting to lose the battle. Or maybe it was win. Her muddled mind just didn't know. 'No!' she thought angrily. 'As long as Dean leaves me alone, I can get through this. He just has to stay away for another day. He just has to-!'

"Max!" her brother thundered, suddenly pounding on the bathroom door. "Open the damn door!"

Max whirled around, staring at the bathroom door in horror. How the hell had he gotten into the motel room? She groaned softly when she realized that John must have given Dean his key. "No!" she called back, grateful that the water was on. It gave her a ready made excuse. "I'm going to take a shower!"

"No you're not," Dean thundered. "You are going to come out here and explain what the hell you thought you were doing."

"Go to hell Dean!" she yelled back, knowing that she didn't dare leave the room while he was still there.

"I mean it Max!" he thundered back. "If you don't come out of there in two seconds then I'm coming in."

"Don't you dare!" she screeched, horrified. She knew her brother well enough that he'd carry out his threat. "I told you, I'm going to take a shower!"

"Don't care!" Was she mistaken or did she hear a strangled gasp accompany those words. "It's not like I haven't seen it all before."

Max gaped at the barrier separating them, images of that long ago moment rushing back to her. The moment that Dean had walked in on her after her shower. Her treacherous mind took it one step further, shedding his clothes, revealing his sleek, well-muscled frame, joining her in the shower stall. A definitive thump of what suspiciously sounded like his foot connecting with the cheap inner door brought her out of that reverie quick. Another connection and the frame surrounding the door splintered and gave way. The door slammed open and Dean stood in the opening, his eyes glittering dangerously, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he sought to control his irrational anger.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you jerk?" Max demanded, inching back from him. She had to stay in control.

"Jerk?" Dean snarled. "You're calling me a jerk? I was just trying to keep my little sister from acting like a two-bit whore!" The moment the words escaped from his lips, Dean fervently wished he could take them back. The sudden flash of tears in her eyes at his accusation made his stomach turn. But then she flashed back to anger. Seeing her shift, he readied himself instinctively for the blow that came to his mid-section.

"I am not a whore!" Max screeched. The punch she aimed at him was intended in retaliation, but the unwitting truth behind his unthoughtful accusation took the sting from it. Max bit back the tears threatening to fall as she took a step forward and tried to hit him again. "And I am not little! And I'm not your sister!" She didn't know why she said it.

Dean caught her hands before she could hit him again. It hadn't hurt, it wasn't meant to. It just accentuated her points. Dean held her hands at the wrists, staring down at her fuming defiant face. It was true. Everything she had said was true. "No," he croaked out through suddenly dry lips. "You're not my sister."

And with that admission, he finally did what he'd subconsciously wanted to do for only God alone knew how long. He jerked her forward, her body colliding with his. His hands reflexively loosed hers and came up to catch around her waist, even as his head descended towards hers and he caught her lusciously full lips in a bruising kiss.

Her hands came up to his chest, to push him away most likely and Dean felt his insides clench in fear and his fingers curled inwards, hanging on to her hips with convulsing strength. But the moment passed and suddenly those fingers were twisting the material of his shirt as her hips nudged against his and her mouth opened under the pressure of his.

Dean groaned at the sudden acquiescence he felt from her. Her body went from defiant and tense to soft, supple, yielding in the span of a heartbeat. Groaning again, wanting to taste her as he'd ached to do for so long, Dean swept his tongue along her lower lip, shivering at the gasp that ran through her.

Dean felt exultant as he was finally able to get closer to her in a way that had been forbidden for so very long. Their bodies met, melding together everywhere they could. But somehow, it still wasn't enough for Dean. He pulled his head back, gazing down at her questioningly. He had to know that she really wanted this too. That she wasn't just going along with it from some desire to please him.

"Max?" he whispered, her name a plea. Her head fell back as she stared up at him, as if wondering why he had stopped, the apprehension in her eyes worrying him. But as she watched him and understanding dawned in her, the deep brown orbs that he loved so much began to darken with lust once more. The corner of her mouth curled up as her hands snaked up his chest, around his neck as she pulled him down to her. His lips met hers once more as his eyes fluttered shut. She wanted him. She needed him as much as he needed her and Dean felt as if his heart was going to pound right out of his chest.

He shifted, knowing only that there was no way on this earth that he could let go of her now. But neither did he want to make love to her on the bathroom floor. She resisted a moment until his hands slid down to pull at her thighs. Still not breaking off their kiss, Max gave a little hop, her years of training enabling her to encircle his waist with her trim legs on the first try. How, he wondered, could she know precisely what he'd wanted from her? How, unless she wanted those exact same things.

Turning them, Dean re-entered the main room, moving by some innate sense towards the beds that dominated the area. Max broke away from him, only to slide her mouth along his jaw, eliciting a gasp from him at the tiny bites she made before trailing down the corded muscles of his neck.

His feet hit the edge of the bed and in the next moment, they were toppling down. Dean managed to release her at the last moment, bracing his arms at her sides so that he wouldn't crush her. He bit savagely at his lip as her hips flexed against his, bringing another rush of heat. Her hands were twisting in his shirt again, yanking the material from the waistband of his jeans.

Knowing what she wanted, wanting it too, Dean pushed back so that he was kneeling. He yanked the shirt free of his jeans and jerked it from his body, letting the material fall from his hands, not caring where it landed. Max had sat up as well, her eyes taking in the expanse of his chest. Her mouth took on a little cat-like smirk as her own hands reached for the hem of her camisole. Dean felt the goose bumps all over his naked flesh as he shivered. Her nimble hands crossed over one another, grasping at the material and she inched it up slowly, teasing him. Dean grinned at her playfulness even as he reached to help her, his hands dipping under the material at her sides. It was her turn to shiver as his callused fingers glided over her smooth skin, feeling the gentle bump of her ribs.

Max continued to sweep the camisole up, over her head and imitating him, let the material fall uncaringly. Dean's hands stayed on her ribs, his thumbs caressing her skin. He stilled when he heard her sharp intake of breath and dared a glance at her face. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth as she waited apprehensively.

Dean let go of her sides, his hands coming up to cup her face as he leaned in to kiss her again. His shoulder nudged the arm that had come up and Max leaned back on the bed. Dean followed, determined not to lose contact with her. He pushed her right leg towards her left, positioning himself beside her. He wanted this to last as long as possible, but neither could he ignore the urge that was screaming at him to make her his just as fast as time could allow.

Max turned on her side, facing him as she molded her body against his once more. His hand stole down to cup her breast pleased to feel the nipple erect and begging for attention. He broke their kiss, tilting his head down to kiss her elsewhere. Max's hand curved around the nape of his neck, holding him to her as he gently rolled his tongue over her flesh. Max moaned at the wet contact, her head lolling back as she happily endured his ministrations. Her top leg moved restlessly against his and Dean shifted, letting her leg slide between his.

When her thigh pressed against him, the pressure gentle but insistent, Dean knew that he wasn't going to be able to control himself for any decent length of time. The hand that was roaming her back, found the waistband of her jeans. With practiced ease, he popped the button and pulled the zipper away and down. Delving in, he encountered synthetic silkiness. His mind flashed with an absurd pleasure. His Max wasn't such a tomboy after all. But the thought flew from his mind as he felt the heat emanating from her body, the musky aroma curling in his nose

He was momentarily surprised when he felt her hand join his, until he realized that she was pushing the denim material down her hip. He joined in, wanting to bare her for his pleasure and hers. His fingers caught at the hem of her high cut satiny underwear, pulling all the barriers away.

He heard her amused chuckle, deep in her throat and then felt her tiny fingers moving lightly over his skin. He knew he must have groaned, though his mind was swimming hazily through the fog of desire that she surrounded him with. To his relief and extreme gratification, both her hands were then occupied with removing his jeans as well.

Max shimmied her hips to allow him to remove her clothing and Dean purposefully ignored looking fully at her until he'd helped her rid herself of the annoyance of clothing and shoes. His turn was next and Max had once again caught her lip between her teeth as she took him in. Dean stilled, not wanting to scare her with the urgency still screaming at him.

Max's eyelids dropped as her eyes wandered down his body, following the path of his clothing as it left his body and was cast away. The dull thumps of his boots hitting the floor barely registered.

Dean watched the course of her eyes over his body, hardly daring to breathe as he waited for something. Her approval, her fear, he didn't know. He could feel the fear clenching his stomach into knots. Not only the fear that Max would pull back, but the fear of so many things that had never plagued him before. Would he be too clumsy with her in his haste? Would he scare her with his physicality? He knew she couldn't have much experience, if any at all with the more intimate side of relationships. Hell, she'd never had time to develop a relationship such as this. The non-fevered corner of his brain, at this point a very tiny corner, warned him to treat her as purity itself, no matter what. And it wasn't hard to do. Just go slowly and take the utmost care of the precious gift of herself that she was giving him.

Reminded thusly, Dean pushed up to his knees once more, trying not to smile at her small sound of protest as he reached for the hastily discarded pants he'd been wearing. As had been drilled into him by his father and his own sense of self-preservation, he found a condom in the front pocket that he routinely replenished when necessity demanded it. Cupping it into his palm, he turned back to the lithe beauty on his bed.

He knew immediately that she knew what he'd been reaching for. She'd followed his movement up, reaching her knees as well and was before him, staring up trustingly into his face. Dean swallowed heavily, trying to breathe past the sudden lump in his throat. This was the truest gift that she'd given him. Something that she'd proved to him over the years, the reason he had fallen so deeply for her, was the unequivocal trust that she placed in him. The only person in his life that had ever done so.

Max slowly reached for his hand, holding the latex protection. Dean unfurled his fingers, knowing that in a way, this was the last step to breaking down the walls that time and familiarity had built between them. It was the truth about how much he wanted her laid bare, waiting for her to accept. If he had to, Dean acknowledged to himself, if this step back into reality was enough to push her back, he would stop. He would let her go and go back to biding his time. Only this time around, it would be hell for him and a sobering reality for her, because the knowledge of they felt couldn't be bottled back up.

"Max?" he asked huskily, as she continued to stare at the small square of foil he held. When finally her liquid gaze turned up to his face, he was startled to see just the tiniest hint of tears in her eyes. He felt suddenly as if he'd been sucker punched straight in the gut.

John stared at the few remaining drops left in the bottle that he held. One last swallow and he'd be done. But he didn't want to be. If he were done, then he really would have no more excuse to stick around the bar. Seeing how he didn't want another beer, he didn't want to play any of the games the bar provided and he wasn't in the mood for chit chat, idle or otherwise, it was a bad thing. Because what he really mostly didn't want to do was go back to the motel and face what was possibly happening between his children. Or perhaps, his son and Max. After all, she wasn't truly his child, though his heart told him differently.

Moisture from the now warm bottle rolled down the side of the tilted bottle and dropped with the minutest of sounds onto the file folder of information that he'd dug up earlier. Brightening as much as his dour mood would let him, John realized that he had a ready time burner in the grasp of his hands. Hastily swallowing the last dregs, he settled the beer bottle on the counter, scooped up the folder and with a nod to the bartender, headed out. He was in L.A. to take care of a job. Shouldn't let anything stop him now. Time to do some grave robbing.

"Max?" Dean repeated, his voice trembling. Hell, his whole body was trembling. It took a moment, but finally a small smile graced her lips. She swayed closer to him and Dean watched, entranced. One of her hands stole up, twining her fingers through his hair as she pulled him closer to her and relief coursed through him. His lips met hers in a kiss that was so soft, so gentle it felt like gossamer silk to him. Her other hand met his, still holding the condom and he felt her take it from his palm, freeing both his hands. Mimicking her, he threaded his fingers into her lightly tinted locks, holding her still for the gentle assault on her mouth.

He heard the foil rip and the next thing he knew, Max's fingers were probing at his manhood. The kiss broken, Max turned her attention downwards. Dean dropped his chin, watching her bowed head as she deftly maneuvered the condom with infinite care and tickling fingers.

Feeling her light, unsure grip slowly change had Dean gasping and tilting his head back, panting, and his fingers still curving against her head. Dean felt her shift even closer, pressing her lips against his chest. Her tongue darted out to taste him and Dean felt tiny jolts of something dart through his skin in the wake of her tongue. He'd never before felt that, had never been as turned on by such simple acts. It was as if everything was brand new to him, with Max. _'Thank you God'_ was all he could think as Max nibbled on his nipple. Another shot of electricity and his aggression reasserted itself.

With a low growl, he tumbled Max backwards once more, captivated by the delighted chuckle she gave. Her hand had left his body but returned to grasp at his arm as he positioned himself. Braced on his elbows, he was close enough to drop his head and engage her in another kiss, slowly shifting so that he could begin to really explore her body.

Dean stroked his hand over her stomach, the feel of her body against his more exotically delicious than any dream he had ever had about her. None of them could compare to this, to actually having her in his arms. Soon, she would be all his in every way that counted.

Dean buried his face in the crook of her neck, finding the delicate skin under her jaw to nip at. Max stretched her chin away from him, gracing him with ample flesh to taste. His fingers stroked her and she was no longer wriggling but writhing under him. Her small stuttered gasps spurred him on.

Wondering how far he could take her, wondering how long he could draw it out, Dean was determined to wring every last ounce of pleasure out of her body before giving in to seeking his own. No matter what had happened before, he would be the only one in her mind forevermore. He was pleased when her small gasp of surprise turned into a long drawn out moan of need. He moved against her again, a longer sweep this time, deliberately pressing over the core of her desire.

Continuing the motion and soon she was rolling her head back and forth as her body arched underneath his. Dean watched in fascination as her eyes rolled back, her lips parted as new sensations washed over her.

"Dean!" she moaned, her hands trying to pull him in. "Please!"

Ignoring her entreaty for the moment, he continued to tease her until he noticed that the shivers running through her body were echoing in his. Biting his lower lip, straining to move slowly, he finally gave in to the primal urge that had been driving him and carefully positioned himself over her.

He waited until her breathing had slowed slightly and her eyes regained focus of him. Watching her carefully he eased forward just a fraction. Her eyes widened in delight as she realized that he was finally giving her what she wanted and Dean bit back a groan as her body flexed towards his. Slowly, inexorably, he proceeded, resolutely sweeping away the slight disappointment of realizing that she wasn't a virgin because honestly, her hesitation and the slow stretch told him that she was the next thing to it. Now that she was finally in his arms, he wasn't going to let it matter.

Bracing his forehead against hers, Dean squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for some infinitesimal encouragement on her part. And it came sooner than he expected it.

His breath left him in a whoosh as he realized that he was precisely where he wanted to be, with Max right there with him. And not only with him, encouraging him, her whispers in his ear. Max tensed underneath him and Dean wondered if she expected him to go wild on her. As much as he would just love to thrust into her, to make her scream his name to the skies above, he was finding that anticipation was sweetening their coupling like manna from Heaven.

Just as slowly as before, he continued making love to her. He watched with pride as his girl melted a little underneath him. Her lips parted as a soft sigh escaped her, the sound swelled with contentment. Dean realized then that while she'd certainly had sex before, no one had taken time to make love to her. And no one but he, ever would again.

The fierce possession that had slumbered for so long in his mind, in his heart, swelled and burst forth as Max's lips rose to meet his. Dean grunted, catching her mouth with his again as he pressed into her with more urgency.

Time stretched, flowed, and had little meaning as they came together. Dean found that there was no part of her that he didn't crave to touch, no part of himself that he didn't want to share with her. Max took everything he offered and gave it back to him redoubled. The sensations coursing through his body as he continued to build the electricity between them paled in comparison of the overwhelming burst of emotion he felt hammer through his mind and heart.

He heard Max whimpering below him. Soon, he felt his own release, the muscles in his back coiling as his hips continued to move reflexively. Dean held her close, burying his face in her neck. His release robbed him of everything as he struggled to hold on to her. Her lush scent burst upon him, dragging him further into the tightly controlled spiral of her descent. His breath left him, his vision blurred, all he could feel was her body surrounding him, welcoming him, taking him into herself more completely than a single union of two bodies should allow. Overcome, he closed his eyes, her name whispered from his lips.

Max shivered once as everything slowly faded away. She heard Dean's whimper. his body so close to hers that it was difficult for her to tell where he ended and she began. Her name, whispered against the flush, slick skin of her throat caused another flutter through her womb and she started minutely in surprise. Never before had she had as powerful a reaction. She could almost feel the heat sliding away. Something new had taken over, something that seemed remarkably like… satisfaction. A deep, abiding sense of fulfillment and contentment.

Until she felt the tear roll down her neck. She looked as well as she could, cradling Dean's body against hers, her hand unconsciously stroking his head, his shoulder, soothing and comforting him. But when she realized the emotion, the release she had caused in Dean, she stilled. Her mind rapidly played over the events leading up to this and her eyes darkened.

How much disaster had she brought down on them? How much pain would be caused because she had been unable to keep from giving into this damnable need? How could she live with herself for degrading herself and proving Dean's earlier accusation right? How could she face him, knowing that she had thoroughly denigrated herself in his eyes?

How could she?


	26. A Matter Of Time

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to NC-17 for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: Dean/ Max, Sam/ Jess

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

A/N: Please see note at the end of the chapter.

When It Changes

Chapter Twenty-five

A Matter Of Time

_"Go to sleep, we'll work it out in the morning."_

The words still echoed inside Max's head. Go to sleep. It was a simple enough directive, for most people. But unlike most people, she seemed to be cursed with shark DNA, making sleep, especially with so much running through her mind, a virtual impossibility. Working it out in the morning? That wasn't so easy to decipher.

On the one hand, this very night, she'd gotten one of her deepest most secret desires granted. Something so primally fueled that she'd never believed it would come to fruition. She should have been ecstatic, but at the same time, she could not forget the events that had led up to the final act.

It had taken Max a little while to calm down after the euphoric rush of emotion and physicality. Time to focus her thoughts past the point of Dean having sex with her. Eventually, as he slumbered beside her, his arm looped across her hip, her thoughts, like her breathing calmed.

And it all came down to one thing. Her heat.

She'd seen this before, had it happen before. The hormone surges that rampaged through her body two to three times a year, courtesy of Manticore, caused a feedback loop if she wasn't careful. Stay too long in one place and eventually the not so instinct driven males that inhabited this world were bound to notice. It wasn't nearly so bad for them, not having the correct genetic markers to cause a full blown response. But a response it was. Add to that fact was her lack of inhibition if the heat went on too long and combustion was inevitable.

That must have been what had happened to Dean. It was the only plausible explanation. All the years he'd spent around her when she was in heat were bound to affect him in some way, weren't they? How could he go from seeing his little sister in one moment, to realizing just what she was? A revved up whore. Even as the words crossed her mind, she could feel the tears that she'd been too shocked for earlier, start up. Dean had even said so earlier tonight. Oh Max was sure that he hadn't really meant them. But from his point of view, that was how Max was acting. And in Dean's eyes, there was only one thing you did with a whore.

Already sliding from his arms, gently, carefully, trying desperately not to wake him, Max slid from the bed. She ran the tips of her fingers over her eyes and when that didn't stem the flow, she rubbed at them with her fists, like a cranky five year old. When that didn't help, Max pressed one fist against her lips, biting back the sobs that were crawling up her throat.

If it had just been finding her clothes in the dark, it would have been no trouble. But trying to find them through the haze of her tears was so much worse. Her jeans made the strangest noise, one she'd never really noticed before, as she tried to pull them on slowly and quietly. Dean murmured in his sleep and Max froze, one leg still unclothed, until he rolled over and settled himself back down. Hurrying, before he could wake up, Max found and donned the rest of her clothes.

It wasn't until she was outside of the motel room, that she realized that John hadn't been there. She checked her watch. It was just after four in the morning. Slightly worried and admittedly, just a little glad for the distraction, she scanned the parking lot, but his truck was nowhere…

Just then she heard the familiar rumble of his black truck. She watched as he turned into the parking lot and pulled into the empty slot next to the Impala.

Slightly breathless, she stood like the proverbial deer in the headlights until John cut the power and slid hurriedly out of the truck. Scared that he'd know immediately, just by looking at her, she ducked her chin, allowing her hair to tumble about her face.

"Max?" his voice was full of concern, gravelly and tired. He reached her in a few short steps, his hands reaching for her face. Sliding along the cheeks, the pressure of those hands forced her to meet him in the eye. But even though she hadn't said anything, the misery in her eyes must have told him what he needed to know because he sighed dejectedly. "It happened, didn't it? I was hoping…" Letting loose her face to wrap his arms around her shoulders; he drew her closer, resting his cheek on the top of her head. He gave a low dry chuckle. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. The signs have been there for a while. Are you okay?"

The surprising show of tenderness and understanding from the gruff father figure brought back the tears unexpectedly. John pulled back to look at her again and Max honestly tried to shake her head yes, that whatever he thought, she was okay. But one hint of the sadness in his eyes, the disappointment, sent her head in the opposite manner. How could she be okay when she had let her guard down and let everyone down? John sighed again and held her closely.

"Its okay baby," he murmured into her hair. "Nobody blames you." That uttered sentiment just reinforced the fear that it was completely her fault. John and Dean obviously, didn't know the whole story. They weren't running on the facts that Max had garnered about her freaky biology. Max swallowed the lump in her throat and pulled back from her father. Granted, it was more Manticore's fault than anyone's, but Max had played her part in the whole fiasco, by not coming up with some plausible escape plan.

"I have to go," she rushed to say. She saw the sudden fear and panic in his eyes. "Just for a few days," she reassured him, not quite sure what her idea was. She just knew that she couldn't deal with this confusion. Not right now. Not when her hormones were still trying to sort themselves out after that extremely emotional connection that she had forged with Dean. One she wasn't so sure he'd share, given the fact that he never had before.

John let out his breath shakily. He nodded slowly. Given the roller coaster ride the evening had turned into, he could see the pressing need for her to disappear for a while. But he certainly didn't want her running off to God knew where. A plan quickly formed in his mind. The safest place for Max to be was with them. But safe wasn't so safe for her anymore, on a different level. That meant that the next best thing…

"You should go to Sam," he announced softly. He could tell by the way her eyes widened that she hadn't been expecting him to endorse that idea. But John knew that despite the falling out between him and his son, Sam would move heaven and earth to protect his little sister.

"Y-yeah," Max agreed, "I could do that." Biting her lower lip, she glanced down at her watch. "If I leave now…"

"You'll be just in time for breakfast," John smiled softly. He ran one hand over her slightly tangled tresses once more, as if to reassure himself that she was still there and would come back to them as soon as she could. Tugging gently at the end of one lock he nodded towards the back of the truck. "Let's get your bike down then."

Together they worked her bike free. John, not normally one for chatter, uncharacteristically filled her in on what he'd done since Dean had dragged her from the bar. He'd proceeded with the case and had torched the body. He could have waited he supposed but night time was just so much better for digging up graves. Once her bike was down, John opened the door and hauled her duffel bag to the fore. He brought it over to the bike, helping her evenly distribute the weight across the back of her bike.

"Now, you've got all your supplies, cell phone, and money?" John demanded, letting his tone become slightly stricter, even as Max was handing over the room key she'd miraculously remembered to grab. Max was used to hearing the list he reeled off and he thought he had seen the glimmer of a faint smile as she nodded at each query. "Tryptophan?"

Max kept herself from rolling her eyes and pulled back the zipper to reveal the bottle that sat at the top of her pile of necessities. But as she glanced down, she noticed something that didn't belong there. Dean's birthday present. Quite small and unassuming, she'd spent a great deal of time, effort and money on procuring it for him. With a slightly trembling hand, she drew it forth, staring at it for a moment, until she turned to John.

"Could you…?"

John held out his hand and took the package from her. He glanced once at it, and then slipped it into his pocket. "I can do that."

"And tell him…"Max trailed off. There were no words she could offer that would suffice. She glanced up quickly at her father, and then shook her head. "Never mind." She turned and threw her leg over the bike, preparing to leave.

"Oh wait," John seeing her prepared to leave had the sudden sensation that something was missing and until he felt a slight breeze, wasn't sure what it was. But then he turned back to the open truck door and withdrew the jacket that she'd forgotten at the bar. "Don't want you catching a cold." Max smiled gratefully as she hurriedly shoved her arms inside. Now that she had something of a plan in place, she wanted to get started. The sooner she left, the sooner she'd have some time to figure this bitch out. And the sooner she left, the sooner Dean could get over the momentary madness that her hormones had provoked in him.

With one last smile thrown over her shoulder at the man who'd taken care of her for almost a decade, Max pushed her motorcycle away from the curb. Out of deference to the still slumbering motel guests, she decided that she'd start up the bike once she got to the street. Just as she was turning the corner, she heard John's final admonition to call him when she got there. She swallowed again, a different type of lump lodged in her throat this time. It didn't matter if he showed it with action or words, at heart, John Winchester was a damn fine daddy.

Sam yawned as he struggled with a box full of books. He grunted once as he finished maneuvering it next to the bookcase. Next time, he decided, he'd take the advice offered instead of stubbornly insisting he knew what he was doing.

"Hey," the soft voice of his girlfriend, Jessica Moore caught his attention as she came out of the kitchen. The smile was spread across his face before he even had fully turned to her. "I'm all done in there," she informed him, waving a hand back towards the kitchen.

Sam sprang to his feet and met her with one long stride, to plant a kiss on her upturned face. "Thanks. You're an angel."

"Of course I am," she agreed impishly. "Why else would I get up at six in the morning to come over here and help?" They both laughed and Sam pulled her close once more. Feeling decidedly good, even at the early hour, he dropped another light kiss on her lips, then groaned when he heard the buzzer, indicating that either someone had come to visit, or had pressed the wrong button. It had been known to happen a few times.

"Hold that thought," he smirked, before turning to answer the impatient noise. "Yeah?"

"Sam?" Sam's eyes widened in shock as he immediately recognized the voice of his little sister. Although they'd talked many times over the past few years, he hadn't seen her since that hunting job had brought them to the area.

"Max!" he exclaimed in surprise.

"Can I come up?" The words were plaintive, but Sam thought he could sense the underlying tension and it panicked him slightly.

"Of course," he replied automatically. He pressed the proper button, holding it until he was sure she'd be in. Exchanging a glance with his girlfriend, both filled with puzzlement, for different reasons, Sam unlocked the door to the apartment and waited in the doorframe for his sister to appear. It crossed his mind briefly to wonder if his Dad and Dean were with her, or if they were once more waiting outside. Quickly, her dark head came into view and she was of all things, carrying her duffel bag with her. Sam took several deep breaths as several terrifying thoughts crossed his mind. He was heading towards her before he even knew what he was doing.

He met her at the top of the stairs. Max, who had been watching the steps as she climbed them, stopped short when she saw her brother's feet. She looked up, her face falling when she saw the fear on his face. "What happened?" he demanded softly but hurriedly. He'd never told Jessica the truth about his former life and wasn't about to start. But neither could he ignore if something had happened to his family.

"Oh, nothing," Max reassured him quickly, realizing where her brother's fear was stemming from. "Everyone's fine. It's just…"

"Just what?"

Max sighed heavily. She hadn't really thought about this part. Sam could be relentless when he wanted to discover something. It was what made him so good at the research part of their job. "Dean and I had a fight," she finally settled on. "A huge one."

"Ah," Sam grinned then, finally able to relax. "Yeah, he can be just a little bit of a jerk, hmm?" Normally, Max would have made some sort of smart remark, but she just fiddled with the strap of her duffel bag. Again Sam wondered what had happened. But he knew better than to ask. As relentless as he could be in questioning, Max could be likewise in the not answering category. "Well come on in. Does Dad know you're here?"

"Yeah," Max mumbled. "He's the one who suggested it."

That surprised Sam. He waited until his sister was through the door before he shut it again, still listening to her explain that she'd driven down from L.A. on her bike.

"…and I thought I could crash with you except I feel really stupid just now noticing all these boxes you've got packed and that moving van outside must be yours," she finished lamely, glancing around the room. There was a blonde woman, kind of hanging back and Max quieted, waiting for Sam to explain.

Sam chuckled sheepishly, scratching at the back of his head while he glanced between the two women. "Uh yeah. I'm kind of moving in with Jess." He gestured at his girlfriend. Max threw him an amused glance, before moving forward to greet the woman whom her brother had mentioned before. She held out her hand.

"So you're Jessica Moore of the 'we're not even like that' fame?"

Jess automatically took the girls hand that was offered. She quirked one eyebrow up, seeing the glint of humor in the girl's eye. She didn't always run on first impressions, but she knew right away that she'd like this person. "And you must be Max of the 'bratty little sister' fame."

As one, both women turned to look at the rapidly becoming uncomfortable Sam. His mouth gaped open for a moment and then he gestured towards the kitchen. "I'm just going to go get coffee. Okay?" And before the words had finished tumbling out of his mouth, he'd shot off to the other room.

Jess let out a soft giggle. "Did he really say that?" she asked of her boyfriend's sister.

Max fought her own smile. "Well, he was drunk, it was late and he knew he was in for some teasing." Jess nodded.

"New Year's," she confirmed. "Yeah, we've kind of been keeping this quiet. Don't want to upset the balance of our friends."

"Oh? How so?" Max questioned. Jess gave a half shrug.

"Well, it just seems like when somebody in our circle of friends starts dating, everybody tries not to pick sides, but they usually do and then if it turns sour, you end up with a lot of bad feelings."

"I can see that," Max nodded. "So? Bratty little sister?"

Jess smiled again. "Tired, big test, you called at eleven just after he'd fallen asleep while studying."

"Well at least he was honest about it," Max chuckled. "I have on occasion, been known to be a brat. But it can be so much fun."

"I wouldn't know," Jess retorted, batting her eyes innocently. Both she and Max giggled. By the time Sam felt it was safe to return, the foundations of a good friendship had been set.

"So how long have you been dating?" Max asked as Jess led her over to the sofa, throwing a few discarded shirts out of the way.

"A few months."

"A couple weeks," Sam answered as he returned from the kitchen bearing three cups. He set them on the coffee table before the women and then threw a grin at them before sinking to the floor to sit cross legged. Max raised an eyebrow at the disparate answers. Jess just laughed.

"If you ask Sam," Jess explained, "he officially asked me out after New Years. But what else would you consider going for coffee, to the movies, out for dinner?"

"That was just as friends," Sam protested lightly, though Max could detect a faint blush around his ears.

"And we were the only two friends there, weren't we?" Jess teased. She glanced at Max. "Dinner at a quaint little café with candles on the table, two people getting to know each other better. It was a date, wasn't it?"

Max pretended to mull it over. "Definitely a date," she concluded. Sam's face fell mockingly.

"Why is it you always find someone to gang up in me with?" he demanded semi-petulantly.

"Just lucky I guess," Max quipped. She reached for her cup of coffee.

"So speaking of," Sam murmured, fiddling with his own cup. "What did you and Dean fight about?" He watched her reaction and saw a definite flinch. Whatever it was, it can't have been good, especially since it sent her running to her other big brother.

"I'd uh, rather not talk about it," Max mumbled, averting her face and taking a long sip of the hot brew. She didn't notice the looks that Jess and Sam exchanged. She set her cup back on the coffee table. "Well, I guess if you're moving today, I'll have to find a motel or something."

"Oh no," Jess protested immediately. "If you don't mind the couch, you're definitely welcome to stay at my place." She shook her head and then amended, "our place."

"Oh I couldn't," Max protested politely. "I mean, isn't that like intruding on a honeymoon couple?" she teased. Sam grabbed a crumpled paper from the floor and threw it at his sister.

"Oh shut up," he chuckled and then sobered. "But seriously, if Jess doesn't mind, we'd love to have you."

"You're sure?" Max asked carefully, watching them both. The couple nodded enthusiastically. "It wouldn't be for more than a few days, a week at most. And I can pay my own way. You know, contribute to groceries and stuff."

"I'm not worried about that," Sam protested indignantly. He wasn't rich, but he was sure he could manage to take care of his sister, or any other guest in their home.

"No, it's only fair," Max demurred. "I mean, you weren't expecting me to show up on your about to be former doorstep."

"Well all right then," Jess decided firmly, slapping her hands lightly on her jean clad thighs. "We better get to packing this stuff out to the van so that you can officially welcome your sister to your new home."

"Um don't get me wrong," Max chuckled. "I'll be glad to help out. But um, do you think I could possibly take a quick shower first?"

"Yeah sure," Sam nodded, awkwardly rising to his feet so he could show his sister the bathroom. "You won't have to worry about Rick, he's gone. Well, he never came home last night and he's got a class later."

Jess pulled her legs in as Max stood and moved past her to retrieve her duffel bag. Her nose wrinkled and her eyebrows furrowed together as she caught the slight waft of a musky odor coming from the girl. As brother and sister headed out of the room, she mulled it over, some part of her mind recognizing the situation with more than a little female intuitional help. But she waited patiently the few minutes it took for Sam to show Max the bathroom, find her some clean towels and then return to the living room.

"So that's your little sister," she stated, smiling up at Sam as he took over the seat Max had just vacated. Sam reached across the coffee table for his cup, nodding absently. "You're worried about her." Again it was a statement, not a question. They both heard the shower start up.

"Yeah," Sam admitted with a sigh. He half turned in his seat to address his girlfriend. "You know, Max and Dean getting in a fight, that's normal. It doesn't happen often, but it's no big deal. But a fight like this?' Jess, she's been crying."

"And that's not normal?" Jess questioned softly, running one slim hand over him in a comforting manner. Sam unconsciously leaned into it.

"For Max? No." He shook his head. "It's more, if she's got a problem, she'll be in your face about it. Or more likely, she just doesn't let stuff bother her. We'd tease her, she'd tease right back. We fought, she'd fight back. We pranked her, she kicked our asses." They both smiled at that, one from memory and the other over the seeming absurdity. "Max just, she never cries Jess."

"Then I guess she was overdue," Jess shrugged genially. Sam frowned and she nudged his knee with her own. "Just because she's your sister doesn't mean you're an authority on the intricacies of womanhood," she teased.

"I didn't say that," Sam protested, nudging her back. "I'm just saying it's not usual."

"But it does happen," Jess reminded him. "Every woman cries. And some men too. They just don't admit it."

"Hey," Sam squawked indignantly. "I'm secure enough in my manliness to admit I cry."

"And I love you even more when you do," Jess crooned back, wrinkling her nose at him. "But about your sister, didn't you think…?"

"Think what?"

Jess was trying to think how she could politely and delicately tell her boyfriend what she suspected about his little sister, when she heard the shower shut off. "Never mind," she sighed. "She's fast in the shower."

"Usually yeah," Sam smiled. "But don't let her take a bath unless you don't need in there for four or five hours."

"Ah," Jess cooed, "a woman after my own heart."

Admittedly, with Max helping them out, the packing and moving was accomplished much sooner than Sam and Jess had figured they would be able to manage. Jess commented once though, on Max's ease at handling the heavier loads. Max had flashed her a grin and a quirky wink following with an explanation of how she worked out daily. Sam had made his own comments about how deceptively strong Max was and it was dropped. While they worked, Max asked Sam why he was moving out before the end of the month. There were quick explanations about Jess' finances changing because she'd been unable to get the class load she'd wanted and the fact that Sam's roommate had been making noise for a while about Sam moving out so his girlfriend could move in. So while it was still early in the relationship, Sam and Jess felt this was the better solution. Max didn't offer judgment on it, as Jess seemed to hesitantly expect. She just nodded and continued with the work.

When the last box had been loaded, Jess hopped into her car to lead the way. She wisely refrained from asking Max to join her, since they had room to put the motorcycle in the van as Max had been running low on fuel. She seemed to recognize their familial need for some private words. At least that was what she read on Sam's behalf. From the look of Max, she'd be just as happy not to.

But when they arrived at her, no, their apartment, Jess could tell from the frown on their faces that nothing had been resolved. And it hadn't, because aside from telling Sam that it was nothing that happened on a hunt, Max was being completely clam-like about the subject. Wondering if putting the siblings to work was a good idea, Jess glanced at her watch. It was getting close enough to lunch time to use that as an excuse. She had noticed that Sam tended to be in a better frame of mind once he had eaten.

It was something that surprised her. That he could be so slim while eating the amounts of food that he did. But then, seeing that he was a fairly active person, preferring to walk to the campus when he could, the martial arts class that he took, she could understand.

"Hey guys," she called to them as the climbed out of the high-riding van, "why don't we take a break and get some lunch?"

"That sounds fine to me," Sam shrugged. "Max?" His sister nodded and Sam turned to busy himself locking up the van properly. They had it for the whole day and didn't need to return it until six o'clock that evening.

"All right," Jess smiled, turning back to her car. "Hop in and we'll decide on the way where to eat."

The first thing he noticed was the lack of heat. Dean grumbled under his breath, hands groping for the sheet he must have kicked off in his sleep. Finally finding the rather thin comforter behind him, Dean also realized that the search had taken too long and he had woken up too much to be able to sink blissfully back into slumber.

But even as he realized this, he wondered why he would want to. A slow, lazy grin spread across his face as the events of the previous night, though not for the first time, played in his mind. He lifted his head fractionally from the pillow it rested on, glancing around for Max. It was instinctive, knowing that she wasn't in the bed. He had slept beside her before and knew what kind of excellent body heat she put out. And knowing how he craved warmth when sleeping, Dean was surprised that he hadn't come up with more excuses to do so. But perhaps wisely, he had refrained, knowing that she needed time to grow up a bit.

And while he didn't see her in the room, he did catch sight of his father's familiar duffel bag. Funny, he hadn't even heard the man slip into the room. Had he seen Max and Dean together in the same bed, with their clothes strewn everywhere? The smile slipped from his face as he realized how it would have, correctly so, looked to his father. Not that John Winchester was a fool. Dean realized belatedly that his father had been warning him about this exactly. He sighed, as he sat up, his chest heaving once sharply as he noticed that his clothes were in a pile on the foot of the bed. Funny, he didn't remember disrobing so neatly. So someone must have put his clothes together at that spot.

Dean's sharp eyes perceived that Max's clothes were nowhere around. His eyes narrowed as he wondered who had been responsible for the clean-up. Perhaps Max had cleaned up before John had arrived. Or maybe John just kicked stuff out of his way when he had stumbled in. To be honest with himself, Dean was… embarrassed. At least when it came to what his father might think of the situation. And it had been a hell of a lot of long years since he'd felt that in any acute form.

It wasn't so much that he was bothered by the fact that his father knew what they had been up to last night. Dean was sure after reviewing the events at the bar that it was a pretty neon glaring sign. It was…it was Max. And him, together in a totally new way. As Dean leaned over to retrieve his jeans and pull them on, he wondered how Max was faring with John. Was the old man giving her the silent treatment? Or was he possibly, just on the tiniest chance, happy for them?

When he heard the rumble of his father's truck, he knew he'd find out soon. Resisting the urge to duck in the shower rather than immediately face his father, Dean pulled on his shirt from last night. Not bothering with his socks or shoes, he moved over to glance out the window. He saw his father pull in, but to his surprise, Max was not with him. A sweeping glance of what he could see of the parking lot told him that her bike wasn't there and it certainly wasn't where it usually resided, in the back of the pick-up. Cold dread swept through him until he resolutely pushed it down. Obviously Max had been upset and when she was upset, she'd go for a ride. Riding that bike soothed her. Dean totally understood that. Driving his baby around had the same effect on him. He let the curtain drop and ran a hand through his hair trying to tame the stiff strands that stood up awkwardly.

He stood, near the doorway, waiting for answers to questions that formed too rapidly in his head to easily decipher. The key in the lock sounded loud to him, but it ceased as the handle turned and then John was there. In one hand he held two Styrofoam boxes, with two large Styrofoam coffee cups atop them, balancing precariously. Dean hurried forward to snag them before they could tumble from his father's grasp. John nodded his thanks, pulled the motel key from its slot and turned to shut the door behind him. There was silence for a moment, until Dean cleared his throat.

"Have you seen Max Dad?" he asked softly. His father threw him a guarded glance as he crossed by his son to set the boxes on the table flanked by two chairs.

"I have," John conceded quietly as he fiddled with the top box, opening it up to reveal the contents of a hearty breakfast. "A couple hours ago."

"She went for a ride?" Dean tried to clarify. He could tell that something was off, just by the stiff set of his father's shoulders.

"Yeah," John grunted, setting the top box now to one side while he fiddled with the other. "Here, sit down and eat."

Dean ignored the offer of food. "When will she be back?"

John sighed and straightened up. He turned to face his son, his eyes grim and Dean began to feel that knot of tension that he'd managed to suppress curling its way through his body once more. "Sit Dean." Though softly spoken, it was an order, which Dean recognized and gave in to. He slid into the nearest chair, his eyes trained upon his father while he waited for answers he was beginning to dread. John simply took one of the cups of coffee and took the other seat. He passed over a couple of plastic forks and knives rolled in a napkin, from his jacket pocket, before stripping the coat and sliding into the other seat.

"Well?" Dean persisted. The scent of scrambled eggs was wafting up to his nose and his stomach rumbled accordingly, but Dean pushed aside the hunger and focused on the older man sitting across from him. John poked at his own food, and then set his fork down.

"She'll be back in a couple of days," he informed Dean. He watched as his son silently parroted the words. John pursed his lips, seeming to mull some things over and then seemed to decide that the best bet was to lay it all out on the table. "She went down to see Sammy."

"Why?" Dean asked bluntly. Oh, it wasn't the obvious why go see Sammy. If she needed to get away, he was the obvious choice to make in this area. No, it was a why did she go at all?

"Dean," John sighed again, "Son, I've seen this coming from a long way off. The past couple years, in fact." At that Dean choked. Years? John took in his reaction and bit off a chuckle. Well, score one for the old man. "Yes Dean, years. Do you really think that brothers treat their little sisters like you treat Max?"

"What'd I do?" Dean's normally low tones raised in octave a bit, giving him a justifiably panicked sound. John couldn't contain his snort this time.

"Hell boy, holding doors open for her, spending all your free time with her, scaring off every guy that came sniffing around her for more than two seconds, giving her diamonds!" The last point was stressed heavily with a mocking frown. And Dean, realizing that his father did have a point, blushed just a little.

"Well, you know, uh, it wasn't all…" Dean stammered and then trailed off. How could he explain to his father the dichotomy between feeling like her big brother on some points, but not the rest? He wasn't sure he even understood it himself sometimes. It was just that eventually everything had morphed from pseudo-siblinghood to something much… more.

"You acted just like I did when I first met your mother," John admitted quietly, cutting through Dean's internal jumble of thoughts. His head snapped up, taking in John's soft, wistful, reminiscent smile.

"I did?"

"John's nod confirmed his words. "But the difference was your mom had a much different time growing up than Max did. She had a chance to go on dates, know people for longer than a few days and she made connections, you know." He drew in a deep, steadying breath. Having realized it, John felt it hard to verbalize his own guilt in the matter. "We never really gave Max that chance." He could see instantly the storm of emotions welling up in his son's eyes. "Hell," he hurried on to say, "I never really gave you boys that chance either."

"Hey," Dean chose to protest that instead of addressing the other. "We dated. Or at least I did. Not so sure about Sammy."

"You really wanna call what you were doing dating?" John teased; mocking his son's rather… perverted idea of dating. Dean caught the rib and flushed again.

"Well, no," he grumbled, and then glanced at his father again. "But can you honestly say that's what you wanted Max to be doing?"

It was John's turn to flush and he held his fork up threateningly. "Those are some mighty interesting double standards there boy."

Dean just grinned, knowing that he'd gotten his point home. "But I'm right," he pushed.

"No, the point is Dean, that whatever happened last night, and please, for the love of God, spare me any and all details!" John shuddered mildly as Dean tried to hide another self-satisfied look. "The point is that Max wasn't ready for what happened and she got scared."

The grin fell from Dean's face. Yeah, his father was right. The old man had been trying to warn him and Dean was just too damn stubborn, his eyes seeing only what he wanted to see and he'd screwed up bad. If he hadn't, Max would still be here; merrily oblivious to what was going on.

"The thing now is," John's voice interrupted his thoughts once more, "what are you going to do about it?"

"What do you mean?"

"When Max comes back," John clarified. "What are you going to do? What are you going to say to her?"

Dean's eyebrows furrowed together as he thought the matter over. In all honesty, he'd never gotten to the point of thinking about the happily ever after, he'd just been waiting for the jumping off point, figuring that they'd figure it out together.

John watched his son for an aggrieved moment, and then let out a rumbling grunt. He leaned back in his chair, fork once again held aloft as he gave over the winning game plan to his son. "Look, when Max gets back, you ask her out. If she agrees, you take her somewhere nice, you compliment her, enjoy yourselves, and keep it clean!"

Dean gaped at his father. He was getting dating advice from his father! When had the world turned topsy-turvy? He opened his mouth to protest, but his father shot him down with a glare, as if reminding them that out of the two of them, who had the dating experience? Granted, it was over two decades out of style, but still. "And then," John continued, "if things go well, you can tell her that you care about her."

"Care about her?" Dean snorted. "Hell Dad, I love her!" As soon as the words were out, Dean groaned and dropped his face into the palm of one hand. He couldn't believe that he'd just said that, for the first time in his remembrance, and not even to the right person. Oh, the teasing he was in for now.

"That's good son," John grunted. "Otherwise your ass would have been having a business meeting with the end of my boot!" He waited a moment, and then added, "Now eat your breakfast."

Dean chanced a glance and noticed that his father was quite calm still about all this. It was a hell of a lot better than he could have hoped for. Now if things went as smoothly when Max returned... Now that John had pointed certain things out, he could see where he had gone wrong. Max had just proved to be too intoxicating last night, more so in a way that Dean couldn't define. But now that he had a few days to work on it, he was definitely going to make it right.

"Oh, and by the way," John mumbled as he reached for something else in his coat. "Happy Birthday." He pushed a small box across the table. Dean's eyes widened. In the midst of everything, he'd forgotten all about that. He reached for the box. "That's from Max. The one from me is still out in the truck."

Dean sucked in his breath. He peered at his father. "Maybe I should wait until she gets back," he offered hesitantly. It didn't seem right to open this gift without her here.

John shook his head. "No, she specifically made it a point that you have it today. She worked her ass off getting you that and I know she'd want you to open it now."

Dean smiled, wondering what marvel his girl had found for him. He shook the box quickly, hearing whatever was inside give a familiar rattle. Ah, it was a cassette tape of some sort. Dean ripped into the gaily decorated birthday themed wrapping paper, pulling it away to uncover as he suspected a tape. But his eyes widened as he took in the words printed on the cover. He was… breath-taken.

"How did she get this?" he demanded softly, still studying the cover.

"I have no clue," John chuckled. "Once she figured that you'd wanted it, she did everything she could to find it. And believe me, there are no stores where you can just walk in and find a copy of that recording." Dean's eyes began to water; he'd been staring for so long. A never publicly released copy of the early studio recordings of one of his all time favorite bands. It was like gold. There was just no present she could have gotten for him that would have been appreciated more. Dean rubbed his thumb over the smooth plastic cassette cover. Oh yeah, he was going to be planning one hell of a welcome home for that girl of his. Just as he had known how much she'd desired those earrings that he'd gifted her with, she knew of his for this music that he'd never mentioned at all. If knowing each other so intimately wasn't the foundation of a beautiful relationship, Dean didn't know what was.

A/N2: I took some liberty with Sam and Jess' relationship. In canon, Sam stated that he was with Jess for eighteen months without having told her the truth. (Route 666) In this fiction, it will actually be, by Sam's reckoning, almost 2 years. (So did they start going out on the show on his birthday?) I did this for a few reasons which will become clear in later chapters.


	27. Mistakes Made

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: Dean/ Max, Sam/ Jess

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Twenty-six

Mistakes Made

Once they were in the car, it was quickly decided that they would head over to a cheap little diner that many of the college students favored. Max expressed some interest in the Kow Loon Garden, even though Sam no longer worked there. He promised that if she were still there in a few days, he'd take them both for an evening out. They could have gone that evening, but Sam figured they would be worn out from all the moving.

Talk turned to Sam's former roommate, Rick. He had been supposed to move out at the end of the first semester that Sam had been at college. But that had obviously never happened. Sam went on to recount for his sister all the doomed and failed relationships the guy went through. Apparently he'd find a girl he was all hot and bothered for, would plan on moving in with her, and then it would almost immediately fizzle out. Sam figured that it was because of one of two things, or maybe both. One because Rick was such a slob, but not as bad as some people he knew. Or because Rick just couldn't seem to say no to a pretty face. Both Jess and Max understood the deeper meaning he implied behind that statement.

Once they reached the diner, Sam and Jess were greeted by a few people they knew and by the waitress who seemed to be a student herself, by what Jess said. It seemed they shared a class and Jess had begun going to the diner in a show of support. That the food was fast, cheap and pretty good didn't hurt either.

They took a seat at a table and once again, Sam decided to broach the subject of Max's impromptu visit. He hadn't gotten anything out of her in the truck and he was really starting to get miffed at his brother. What the hell could Dean have done that was so horrible that Max took off?

Max, who wasn't fooled by her brother's backing off in the truck on the drive to his new place, sighed. Apparently he was going to try again in front of Jess, since she had admitted that it was nothing work related. She'd been trying to figure out a convincing enough story to tell her brother that would get him to back off. But at the same time, she really didn't want to tell him the truth. It was bad enough that she had lowered herself in Dean's eyes, had disappointed John. She really needed the connection she had with Sam to stay intact. All she could do, she guessed was offer up a partial truth and hope he was satisfied.

"Look Sam," Max said as she laid down the menu she'd been perusing. "We were at a bar and I was just talking with this guy. Dean finally arrived to meet us and, well you know how he is."

Sam grunted lightly, as if seeing how the whole thing laid out. "Let me guess, he turned into a raving caveman and got all overprotective and scared the hell outta this guy? And you didn't appreciate it." He sighed and leaned back, a small smirk hovering on his lips. "Yeah," he continued without waiting for Max's confirmation. "I wouldn't appreciate it either."

Max felt a small weight lift of her chest as Sam finished his short tirade. She forced a smile on her face to let Sam feel as if he'd succeeded in worming the truth out of her. "Yeah, so big fight, I left, drove a lot and here I am."

Sam leaned forward again, asking confidentially, "you didn't punch him again, did you?"

Max fought to keep from frowning and the rush of emotion that the words evoked. No, she hadn't hurt Dean physically, much. She dropped her head down so that Sam wouldn't see the guilt on her face. She shook her head, and then softly admitted. "Just a couple times, in the stomach."

Sam snorted and covered his mouth with his hand. "He just never learns," her brother laughed.

Jess sat quietly by, watching this interaction. At Max's admittances, several things rolled through her mind and seemed to click all at once. Patiently, she waited until Sam had finished his short laughing jag. Leaning forward on her elbows, she smiled at her boyfriend. "Sam, could you ask Allie if she'd get me an ice water? I'm parched."

Sam, the smile still on his face, searched his girlfriend's eyes for a moment before he gave in to her simple request. "Sure!" he sprang to his feet and headed over to the diner counter to wait for Jess' friend to become free.

Jess and Max watched his progress until Jess seemed to feel that he'd gone far enough, before she turned back to Max. "Um, look," she began hesitantly. "I know we just met and we don't really know each other, but um, that's not the whole story, is it?" The panic in Max's eyes confirmed it and Max shook her head.

Jess could feel the hesitancy in her boyfriend's sister, but she pushed on anyway. "You don't have to tell me anything, since I'm still essentially a stranger. It's just; it seemed to me that this was kind of like something I did when I was about your age." She paused, hoping that she had figured it out right. She didn't really want to risk alienating this girl so early on in her relationship with Sam. She knew just by the way Sam talked about her and the way he looked when he thought about or talked to his little sister that she was an extremely important person in his life. Out of his remaining family members, she was the only one he talked about regularly. Since her arrival, Sam had said his brother's names more times already than since Jess had first met Sam. Jess took a deep breath and plunged on. "You didn't um; happen to go back out with this guy you met, did you? Just to prove to Dean that you were an adult and you, uh, knew what you were doing?"

Max's eyes widened as she realized Jess was just giving her the perfect out. She stared at the blonde and slowly nodded her head. "Yeah," she confirmed softly.

Jess nibbled at the corner of her lip and leaned even closer. "He didn't hurt you or anything, did he?"

"Oh no," Max breathed. Her eyes narrowed as she put things together herself. Jess had been in a situation like that? "It was just a stupid mistake that I made. I just didn't realize it until after. I mean, it's um, not like I've never been with a guy before, but uh, it just went a little further than I meant it to. You know?"

"I know," Jess nodded sympathetically.

"But you were…?" Max asked, then blushed, realizing that Jess might not want to divulge details either. Jess looked slightly confused until she realized what Max was asking and she gave a small smile.

"Ugh," she grunted, rolling her eyes. "I was seventeen and determined to go out with this guy on the football team. My dad didn't like him and for good reason, I guess. So I snuck out to meet him. Let's just say, I'm very glad some friends of mine happened to show up where we were and got me out of there. It didn't get very far and it could have been a lot worse."

"Well I'm glad for that," Max sighed. She was relieved in a way. She had someone she liked that she could commiserate with on a certain level. But there was still something. "Um, I hate to ask you this, but, could you not tell Sam about this?"

Jess took the request in as the obviously serious tone that it was intended. She nodded. "Of course, but honestly, I think he'd understand."

"Sammy?" Max scoffed. Jess eyed her intently. Max gave a toss of her head, causing her hair to flip over her shoulder. "Right!"

"No seriously," Jess smiled. "I mean, I know he's your brother, but he is pretty sensitive about this stuff."

"Uh huh," Max dead-panned. "Let me tell you Jess," she chuckled. "When it comes to his baby sister, Sam's caveman routine ranks third, right behind Dad and Dean."

"Really?" Jess smiled hesitantly, intrigued. Max giggled and leaned forward.

"Yeah, let me tell you about this one time," she intoned. Oh, this felt so very good. It had been a long time since she'd had a good female friend to giggle with over things. "Well, we were at this bar restaurant sort of place. I can't even remember what we were doing. But anyway, we had just finished dinner and Dad was over at the bar talking to one of his friends." That wasn't quite the truth, but Max knew that Jess didn't need those details. "I went over to check out the music on the jukebox. And this guy comes over and starts talking to me. He was a couple years older, about sixteen or seventeen. You know, things are fine, except he catches sight of Sam, still at our table, talking to this girl. Well he starts glaring at Sam. I was trying to figure out what was the matter. So we're talking, next thing I know, Sam's glaring at us, right? You know; pulling the big brother, leave my sister alone routine. Well, that's exactly what this guy was doing. Sam was talking to his sister."

"Oh that's too cute," Jess giggled. Max smiled and held up a finger.

"It gets better," she warned. "So this whole time that these guys are glaring at each other and you know, doing the macho vibe thing, Dean is playing pool. Well, he couldn't see where I was standing, but he could see Sam. And all he can see of Sam is that there's this pretty girl sitting next to him and Sam is making faces at the wall." Jess' giggles erupted into full blown laughter at this mental image. "Now, he's got a pretty lady on his arm, he's flirting with her, whispering in her ear, all that sort of stuff." Max pushed aside the momentary surge of jealousy as she recalled this. Couldn't ruin a good story over her petty feelings for something that had happened years ago. "He must have pointed out Sam to her and soon they're laughing. Well Sam catches sight of this and starts glaring at Dean, for making fun of him. But the next thing I know, both Sam and this girl are glaring in Dean's direction. We had no clue what was going on until Dean and this girl come over to the table. And then all of a sudden, the guy I'm with is glaring at Dean and Sam!"

"Oh what on earth?" Jess got out between chuckles.

"Well Dean says a few more things, he's laughing and teasing, next thing I know, he's glaring at me and this guy, okay more the guy than me and my guy is almost growling by this time," Max continued. She let Jess get out a few more good laughs. "So he makes a beeline over to the table, with me in tow. It was bad enough that Sam was talking to his little sister, but Dean was making out with his older sister." Jess howled with laughter. "Who was pregnant and engaged to be married the very next day! To her father's bartender!"

Jess' eyes widened as she took it all in and then collapsed in laughter again. "Oh no!" she gasped. Max, laughing as well, could only nod.

Sam waited patiently for Allie to deliver the meals that had come up. She had acknowledged Sam with a nod of her head as she moved off, letting him know that she'd be with him in a moment. He wasn't fussed. He had sensed that Jess had wanted to talk to Max and he figured, why not. Maybe a female could succeed where he couldn't. Although it seemed a long shot to him. Max just wasn't the kind of person who blabbed about things, especially things involving their family, to complete strangers. But maybe that could be a lure all in itself. That Jess was still a stranger, there was a certain anonymity in the sharing process.

While he waited for Allie to return, he pulled a copy of the day's newspaper towards himself. It was just the front section. Sam knew that he'd have a copy waiting at Jess' house, since they both liked to look the paper over. It was something they did together occasionally. Snuggled up together on the couch, they'd talk over the news they read and the imports of what it meant.

Eventually, though he was absorbed in reading the news, and then giving Jess' request to Allie, who happily filled it, Sam became aware of the giggling at the table he'd left. He glanced over his shoulder to see his two best girls with their heads together laughing over something that Max was telling Jess. He smiled, relieved beyond words that they were getting along together so well. But then, he heard his name and then a fresh peel of laughter. Allie brought back the glass of ice water, told Sam that she'd be over in a second to take their orders and hurried off again. Sam grabbed both paper and glass and headed back to the table, a suspicious look on his face.

"So what's so funny?" he asked as he slid into the seat beside his girlfriend. Jess just glanced at him and laughed even harder. He looked back and forth between them, finally settling on Max, since she had been the one telling the story.

"Dean and the pregnant bride to be," Max gasped out. Sam had to think a moment before he recalled what she was referring to and then he grinned as well.

"Oh man, yeah," he chuckled. "Dad chewed his ass out over that for what? An hour?"

"Longer," Max shook her head. She told Jess, "we barely got out of that bar with our skins attached. Everyone was up in arms over that."

Jess' laughter slowed. "They blamed Dean?" she asked. "What about the girl? What was she doing with Dean in her position?"

"Well apparently," Sam drawled, "she wasn't too happy about having to marry this guy and seemed to be doing everything she could to get out of it. Dean just happened to be her victim that night."

"Oh what a mess," Jess sighed. She leaned in closer to Sam as she picked up her water and took a sip. "I'm so lucky I don't have to worry about you."

"Hey!" Sam protested indignantly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Max smiled at her brother and Jess as they got off into a seeming good-natured argument. She knew that Sam would actually mind being compared in the same light as Dean, so for him to be protesting now that he could be, well, she could just see that they were teasing each other. When it denigrated into cooing and kisses, she hid her grin and pulled the paper that Sam had brought with him over to herself.

The glaring headline on the paper _**'New "Mobile Surveillance Units" to be Tested in 5 Major U.S. Cities'**_ caught her eye immediately. What on earth were these things? Intrigued, she read through the article, wondering how she'd never noticed this information before. These things, which had been developed by a company based in Seattle, were being marketed for use by police forces in major cities, citing that the added eyes would prove beneficial for the already overtaxed forces to capture on video footage, crimes being committed. Admittedly, there were a good many people up in arms over this invasion of privacy and Max could certainly see why. It was fascinating to read however about how the machines were put together, a mixture of computer technology and good old physics. The picture accompanying the article showed one of the scientists working on a unit, which seemed to be quite large, a foot thick and at least a yard wide. The caption underneath revealed that insiders in the company referred to the units as hover drones, apparently because of the noise they produced during their flight patterns, akin to bees in flight. Since they'd been developed in Seattle, the city would be hosting one of the testing units. Because of the crime levels and city sizes, L.A., New York, Chicago and Miami were also test sites.

"Hey Sam," she interrupted the little love fest across the table, pushing the paper back. "Have you seen this?"

Sam glanced at his sister, taking the paper back from her. He glanced down at it. "Yeah, the hover drones? It's been in the paper a few times."

"I don't like it," Jess grumbled suddenly, glancing at the paper as well. "It's just another invasion of privacy. The government sticking their noses in where they don't need to be."

"That's what you said before," Sam smiled indulgently. "But you don't mind traffic cameras."

"But that's because those are stationary," Jess spoke with the air of someone going-over old information. "Every time you pull up to an intersection, you know there might be one there. So if it catches you doing something, that's your own fault. But these things? Uh uh."

"Oh, have you been off committing crimes when my back was turned?" Sam teased.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," Jess protested, poking her boyfriend in the shoulder. "I'm talking about these things roaming around wherever the programmer's please catching on videotape things that aren't meant to be seen. I mean, who knows yet how high these things can go. Would you really want one of these things peeping in our window for some perverts amusement, all under the guise of making sure we're not committing a crime?"

"They're not going to be flying around all will nilly," Sam grinned. Max could see from the twinkle in both their eyes that they were enjoying their debate. So she just let it slide over her, analyzing what these new machines could mean to her personally. "They'll have specific flight plans, concentrating on the statistically highest areas of crime."

"And what good will that do?" Jess asked pointedly. Suddenly, she seemed to realize that their debate had excluded Max. She turned to the young woman. "What do you think?"

"I'm with you," Max answered automatically, even though her mind was racing with the probabilities that this project would turn south on the creators in many ways. "For one thing, isn't it entrapment of a sort? And secondly, by declaring their flight paths, all that means is that the criminals will do their dirty deeds elsewhere, when these things aren't around. A lot of money wasted."

Jess smirked up at Sam, happy to have another person on her side. Sam sighed in a long-suffering big brotherish way. "It's not entrapment. That's only if you deliberately set up a situation and entice the criminal into the activity for the express purpose of exposing his crime. They've covered themselves by declaring their intent." He paused for a moment, searching for an appropriate example. "Okay, this is like someone robbing a gas station. They put a sign on the gas station saying that there are video cameras in place, so if someone robs the place, they were warned and its their own fault for getting caught."

"Yeah, I get that," Max rolled her eyes at her brother. "That's why I said, 'of a sort'. I still don't like the idea."

Jess opened her mouth to add in her agreement, but snapped it shut when Allie finally managed to make it over. She apologized about having taken so long, since their cook was on break just before everyone showed up. The trio happily gave their orders and the girl left again. Before they could get back onto the topic of heated discussion, Max asked about Jess' apartment and taking the hint, the girl began describing it to Max. That took up some time and then talk moved on to the college courses they were taking and then Sam asked Max about how her studies on the books he'd sent her had come along.

It was enough talk to fill the rest of their time in the diner. And then they happily went back to work, moving Sammy on to the next big step in his life.

"And just so you know," John rumbled, as they were finishing the end of their quick meal. "Max called me to let me know that she got to Sammy's all right."

Dean's head shot up, fork poised in mid air with the last of his scrambled eggs in a heap. "She did? She sound okay?"

John nodded. "A little tired. Judging from the time, I suppose she drove straight through."

Dean nodded and then his face fell. "I wonder what she told him? 'Bout her reason for visiting, I mean."

John shrugged, contemplating that thought. "Probably that she just felt like visiting him. It's been awhile." It wasn't necessary to say it all; they both knew exactly how long since they'd seen the recalcitrant member of their little family unit. "So, now that breakfast is done," he continued, waiting as Dean's last bite disappeared, "let's go."

"Go where?" Dean asked, his eyes puzzled.

"Where we always go," John smirked at his eldest.

"But what about the hunt?" Dean questioned. It was after all the reason they were in L.A. to begin with.

"What do you think I was busy doing last night?" John teased and then grinned. "Sorry, uh, it just slipped out."

"Yeah right," Dean grumbled. Oh this was great. Clearly, having gotten through the painfully embarrassing conversation about the development of Dean's '_feelings!'_, John had now moved on to the free-for-all teasing stage. But as he reflected on that, he suddenly understood it to be a pretty good thing actually. If his Dad felt comfortable teasing him about this, didn't that just go to show that his Dad was happy about it? Because while John might have thrown a comment or two his way about Dean's way with the ladies, he usually just kept his mouth shut about it. If he was happy and joking about Dean's feelings… all right, his love for Max, then that was as good as a promise from the old man. Dad was one hundred percent in his corner. And once Max understood that she was IT for him, THE girl that he felt he could share himself totally, honestly and without reservation with, then life would be as near perfect as it could get. The only stumbling block to this whole plan was, well, it was how Sammy would see it.

Dean sighed as he rose from his chair. Before, he'd been unable to move past a certain point in wishing and hoping in his life. Now, he certainly didn't need to be getting ahead of himself, looking for problems that weren't there yet and might not even come up yet. For all he knew, Sam could be deliriously happy for them. At worst, he'd never want to talk to Dean again. Shaking off the sudden shiver that ran down his back at that thought, Dean followed his father out of the motel room, snagging his jacket from where he'd left it the previous evening, and the tape Max had given him, slipping it into his pocket.

John had stopped at the truck, oblivious to his son's mental ramblings. Opening the driver's side door, he popped his seat forward and reached into the slight area behind the seats. He removed a plainly wrapped box; a plastic bag filled with some necessaries, and then slammed the door shut. He turned to hand the box to his son. "Happy Birthday Dean-o!"

Dean took the box, imagining from the weight of it, precisely what it could be. With glee, he ripped off the paper, which his father took back from him. As he hoped, the brand new box indicated that his father had gotten him the .45 that he'd been eying recently at an outdoor hunting and camping store chain. "All right!" he crowed, running his hand over the box. He knew better than to open it up in the middle of a crowded street, or parking lot, or basically where other people might take it the wrong way.

"All right," John smiled indulgently. "Let's go try out your new toy with some good old fashioned fun." He headed over to the Impala, unlocking the driver's side and sliding in. Dean followed, looking askance at his father. "Humor an old man," John joked. "Besides, I know where the shooting range is, you don't."

"Whatever," Dean grinned. He moved around the car to climb into the passenger's side. Once in, he took the bag from his father, glancing inside to see that his father had bought plenty of ammo of the regular kind. He nodded once in approval, then stowed the gun box and bag on the floorboards. Suddenly realizing that this was the perfect opportunity to listen to Max's gift, he dug it out of his jacket pocket.

"What do you think you're doing?" John asked calmly.

"Music," Dean grunted as he leaned back to pull awkwardly at the cassette lodged tightly in the pocket.

"And who says we're going to listen to that crap today?" John continued, his face calm and serious.

"Dad," Dean protested softly, without much energy. He leaned forward to press the tape into the mechanism, but John caught his son's hand and thrust it away. "Hey!"

"Hey yourself," John frowned. "Put that away. I don't want to listen to that."

Dean's eyes widened as he took in his father, gauging the moment. "Come on, give me a break. It's my birthday for freak's sake!"

"I don't care," John assured him calmly. "Remember Dean, driver's rules."

Dean's mouth dropped as he stared in astonishment at his father. But then he caught sight of the gleam in his old man's eyes. "Aaah!" he half mumbled, half laughed.

"Had you going, didn't I?" John chuckled along.

"Yeah, you were good," Dean mumbled, nodding his head. "Freak!" He said it softly but John just as obviously heard him.

"And damn proud of it," John grunted. He backed out of the parking lot as the soft strain of a roughly recorded song began. Even before he had reached the end of the street, the music broke off as a humorous comment was made by one of the band members. Both men laughed along, content that the day could do nothing but get better.


	28. After The Stars Have Fallen

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: Dean/ Max, Sam/ Jess

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Twenty-seven

After The Stars Have Fallen

"So what'cha making?" Max asked Jess as she leaned against the counter in the small but somewhat efficient kitchen of Jess and Sam's apartment.

"Just some treats for later," Jess smiled as she leaned over to place a full pan in the oven. "Speaking of," she murmured as she straightened up and set the hot pads she'd been using on the counter. She turned to face Max. "Seeing as how Sam has class tonight, I was wondering if you'd like to come with me tonight?"

"To your party?" Max asked, surprised. Jess nodded enthusiastically. Max thought it over a moment. After the first day there, she'd been helping out, getting Sam moved in. The second day, she'd tried to stay out of their way, which wasn't hard, since they'd both had classes. Today however, Jess had only one class, in the morning, which she had already attended. Sam had a shift at the store he was currently working at, then an afternoon and evening class. She hadn't really made any plans, other than maybe wandering around Palo Alto for a while.

"Well," she sighed. "I wouldn't want to intrude." Jess had mentioned the party to Sam last evening, in the privacy of the bedroom, but since she hadn't made an effort to be quiet, Max had overheard. It was more of a 'remember that I have these plans', type of thing, instead of a 'what am I going to do with our guest'. But Max was still a little unsure about putting herself in that position where Jess felt like she had to entertain Max.

"It wouldn't be," Jess assured her with a soft smile. "Remember Allie from the diner?" Max nodded. "Well, all of us girls try to throw together a party of some sort where it's just us. No guys allowed. We all contribute something snack wise, the hostess provides a few bottles of cheap wine and we kick back and have ourselves a good gossip."

Max smiled wanly. It didn't quite sound like her cup of tea. And by the way Jess' grin widened, she realized that too.

"Don't worry," she chuckled. "It's not as bad as it sounds. See the thing is, it's Allie's turn to host and lately she's been on one of those 'party to sell things' kind of kick."

Max's brow furrowed as she tried to puzzle out what Jess was referring to. Fortunately, the blonde seemed to have an uncanny knack for getting the gist of a person's emotions before words could be said.

"Have you ever been to a Mary Kay or Avon party before?" she asked gently. Max shook her head.

"Growing up with Dad and two brothers…" she trailed off suggestively. "Wasn't big on the list of priorities."

"I can imagine that," Jess shook her head. "Well basically all it is, is the representative comes to your house during the party and displays and talks about the wares she's selling. Usually make-up or household products."

"Didn't you tell Sam that it was a candle party?" Max asked suddenly, part of the breakfast conversation starting to make sense."

Jess' lips pursed as she fought to hide a grin. "Yeah. That's what I told him."

Something suggestive in her tone caught Max's attention. "But it's not," she inferred slowly.

"No, actually its Allie's latest passion," Jess shrugged. "Undercover Wear." At Max's puzzled look, she explained further. "You know, underwear, nightgowns, and the dainties." She turned to start cleaning up the ingredients that she'd been using. "We never tell the guys when it's that kind of party. Couldn't you just imagine? They'd be inviting themselves over, trying to get a good ogle at the girls and stuff."

Max laughed. Yeah, she could certainly see why they kept it quiet. "But what happens when you don't bring home any candles?"

"Oh," Jess grinned sheepishly. "It's all got to be ordered through the mail. Reps usually don't carry that big an inventory. So I either tell Sam that I didn't see anything I liked, it was too expensive, or I wait a few days, go down to the mall and buy something at the candle shop down there."

Max blinked a few times, surprised at how easily Jess seemed to feel about deceiving her brother. And Jess apparently realized how badly that sounded.

"I'm sorry," he blushed. "It's just, you know your brother. I mean, he's okay about a lot of stuff, but that still makes him uncomfortable."

"I'm sure he enjoys the end result though," Max teased with a wicked glint in her eye. Jess continued to blush but nodded enthusiastically. But another thought occurred to her. "But why would it bother him so much? I mean, he had to deal with all of my, actually somewhat limited, female issues."

"Yeah, but you're his sister," Jess pointed out equanimically. "It's different when it's a girlfriend. All part of the intimacy thing."

"So I take it you haven't asked him to stop and pick up tampons for you yet, then?" Max chuckled. Jess arched her eyebrow, almost as if she could sense a story behind the inference.

"I might at some point," Jess grinned. As she put the bowl she'd been mixing in into the sink to rinse, she glanced back over her shoulder at the younger woman. "So, would you be interested? Allie told me she'd be happy to see you again."

"Well," Max tilted her head to the side as she made her decision. "If you guys don't mind, it sounds like it could be fun."

"Perfect!" Jess beamed at her. "It's all set then."

John was seated at the table, perusing some newspapers from around the country, planning what their next move would be. There had been something in one of the articles that had caught his attention and he was peeved that he couldn't exactly recall which paper it had been. Dean, usually the more laid back of the pair, wasn't his usual self today. Oh it was true, he was lazing on the bed, idly flipping through the television channels, but his usual commentary was lacking. It was nice in a way, since John didn't have to apply the part of his brain that he normally did in tuning out the chatter. Instead, that part of his brain was mulling over Dean's quietness. Best as he could figure, his son' mind was somewhere a few hundred miles south of their current position. And even as he thought it, the chirp of his cell phone perked up his attention and his hand reached out to snag it.

He grinned when he saw the number and snapped open the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey Dad," Max greeted him cheerfully.

"Hey sweetie," he returned. He caught sight of Dean straightening up in his peripheral vision, the television being instantly muted. "What's up?"

"Oh, just thought I'd give you an update," Max replied, her voice seeming exuberantly happier.

"Update on what?" he asked gently, his free hand still rearranging the newspapers.

"Sammy's new girlfriend."

"His new what?" John asked, thrown a little. Sure, he'd realized that a girlfriend would probably be part of the packaged new life Sam had made for himself. But he wasn't expecting to hear about it. But then, Max was in the perfect position right now to keep him even more informed about his son's life.

"Well, she doubles as a roommate too," Max chuckled.

"What!" That John had certainly not been expecting, though he did have a good chuckle as well as Max related the situation she had arrived in. After she had finished, he asked," so what have you three got planned tonight then?"

"Well, Sam has class so Jess is taking me to a party," Max recounted.

"A party?" John was instantly worried. Not that Max couldn't take care of herself, but some of those college parties could be, well, wild.

"Oh not like that," Max assured her father. "Like Avon or Mary Kay."

John gave a relieved little laugh, and then laughed harder at Max's indignant protest. "Sorry sweetie," he apologized. "It's just; I can't quite see you sitting around trying on all that make-up goop."

"What?" Max demanded suddenly. Then the phone was muffled a bit as she was obviously talking to someone else. "You didn't say that I'd have to try stuff on!" He could plainly hear the panic in her voice and he laughed again. There was a decidedly feminine response and Max spoke again. "Gah! You guys shouldn't scare me like that."

"Well just as long as you don't come back with your face looking like a clown, then we should be okay," John decided.

"Max doesn't need make-up to look gorgeous," Dean huffed quietly from his seat on the bed, proving to his father that he was quite obviously easily following along with his father's end of the conversation. John flashed his son a grin, completely in agreement, and then turned back to the conversation at hand.

"So have you guys decided where we're headed next?" Max asked softly. Obviously she couldn't ask outright what she wanted to, what with Sammy's girlfriend probably right there.

"There've been a few things," John admitted. "We should probably take care of them pretty soon." He left it as a suggestion. He wasn't about to order her back to them.

"Hmm," Max sighed. "Let's see. I'm auditing a class with Sam tomorrow," she recounted. "He got special permission for me to attend from the professor. And then Jess and I were going to go shopping at the mall at some point. And then, Sammy made reservations for us at the Kow Loon for two nights from now."

"So you're booked for the next few days then, huh?" John asked wryly.

"Yeah I-!" Max broke off suddenly and the call was muffled again. "Get out of there! You touch those and I'll kick your butt!"

"Max!" John was shocked at the sudden turnaround in his daughter's attitude to her hostess.

"Sorry Dad," Max rejoined. "Sammy was trying to steal some of the cookies that I was making for the party tonight."

Oh, well that was a little more acceptable. But… "You're making cookies?"

"Yeah!" Max enthused. "Jess is teaching me how to bake."

"Well, that's awful kind of her," John grinned. He hoped the girl had better talent in the kitchen than his poor family did.

"I mean it Sammy!" Max suddenly growled. "I'm watching you. Your cookies are in the cookie jar" A pause. "I already told Dad. And if you keep it up, I'll tell Jess. And she won't kick your butt. She'll just cut off the nookie!"

John choked on a sudden spurt of laughter as he listened to the interesting byplay of his kids. He cleared his throat as the incident seemed to be resolved between them. "So I take it, this Jess is a pretty formidable young woman?"

"Yeah, I like her Dad," Max sighed, though it was a happy sound. "She and Sam are really good together. Although they could just be on their best behavior since I'm here."

"That could be," he answered non-committed. People were always a little different when they had company.

"Well, as I was going to say," Max continued, picking up the thread of their earlier conversation. "If you guys need to head out, Sam said I can stay as long as needed. You can come get me when you're done or I can meet up with you somewhere."

"Well, there are a few cases that need some immediate attention," John mulled over the idea. Several things were going through his mind. One, that Max was finally getting the chance to experience some of the more normal things in life, and yet she still intended to come back to this life they were living. Two; that she would be well taken care of in Palo Alto. And thirdly, with the lack of mentioning Dean, she still wasn't ready to deal with that situation. A little more time apart wouldn't hurt anything. "So that sounds like a plan. We'll just keep in touch and let you know when we're back this way."

"Okay," it wasn't his imagination that his daughter sounded immensely relieved. "Oh, I've got to go Dad, or this batch will burn. Love you."

"Love you too sweetie," John replied instantly. "Have fun at the party." He hung up and turned to his son. "Let's pack up."

"She's not coming back yet?" Dean asked quietly, though he knew the answer already.

"Nope," John admitted baldly. "But she certainly intends to."

"So how was the class?" Jess asked as she met up with Max at the main entrance to the mall.

"Not bad," Max grinned. After the party the evening before and the resulting flow of wine, Max had been able to relax a certain amount and really enjoy herself. She and Jess were definitely forming their own bond, outside of their connection because of Sam. And from what Sam had been saying earlier, before the class he had petitioned to bring Max into, he couldn't be happier about it.

"Was it what you expected?"

"Better actually," Max replied thoughtfully. "The last time I was actually in a class, it was all the teacher asks the questions, kids sit there mute."

"Oh yeah," Jess nodded as they made their way inside. "Sam mentioned you guys were home-schooled. What was that like?"

"Really cool," Max enthused. "Dad used to take us to all these different places. Museums and stuff. And since Sam and I could get through the work really quickly, we didn't have to spend all our days inside doing busy work."

"Ah, must have been nice," Jess mockingly pouted. "I had twelve years of teachers like that. So, did going to a real college class jump start any ambitions?"

If this hadn't been a topic of conversation between her and Sam the previous evening, Max might have felt a little disgruntled at Jess' asking. But she wasn't. "Not really," Max sighed. "I don't mind learning about new stuff. And the forum of the open class that professor subscribes to is nice, but I still felt all cooped up."

Jess shrugged, unconcerned. "Some people are like that. They either just learn better on their own or prefer to learn whatever life throws at them. And it's not like you couldn't do it later. You're still young."

"What made you decide to go ahead with college?" Max asked curiously. She certainly knew why Sam was going.

"My parents expect it," Jess quipped. "And they're paying for most of it. And with a degree, the job possibilities are a lot better, not to mention the wages." Max nodded along with her. She could certainly understand that. Doing what they did was not exactly a high-profile, profitable venture. It's why they survived the way they did. Not that she was going to tell Jess that. It had been clear to her from moment one that Sam had no intention of cluing Jess in about certain parts of his past.

Jess made some murmur over something and Max dutifully stopped while Jess pulled a shirt from the rack closest to the entryway of the store. As Max glanced at it, something caught her attention and her brows furrowed together. A woman, quite statuesque was standing, looking at another display not too far away from them. A woman that Max could have sworn that she had seen earlier that day on the campus when she and Sam had arrived for the class she was taking in. The woman had watched her approach to the door she was seated by, but when Max had smiled at her, the woman had looked away.

At the time, she had seemed only a little out of place. She'd been dressed a little more, well, elegantly than the rest of the student population. She was still now dressed in the soft lilac blouse and pencil slim black skirt that she'd worn earlier. Max had to admit that it set off her skin and black hair nicely. But now she was interested for an entirely different reason than wondering what a lady like that was attending college for.

Even as she watched, the woman glanced at her, and then immediately dropped her gaze again. Her cell phone must have rang though and the woman removed her purse from her shoulder to retrieve it. She answered and her eyes darted back to Max and away again in a suspicious manner.

"Max?" Jess' voice brought her out of her reverie. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Max stated a little too loudly, but quieted her tone. "Have you ever seen that girl before?" she asked with a gentle gesture towards the other woman. "I could swear that she's following me." She made it a jest, but with her past, caution was the only way she could go.

Jess looked over at the woman and gave a little smile of recognition. "Oh yes. Monique Fournier."

Max was a little startled by the sudden icy tone and frosty demeanor that Jess was giving off. "So I take it you do know her?"

Jess gave a rueful little laugh. "Yeah, she's in a couple of Sam's classes. She started throwing herself at him the moment they met."

"Really?" Max drawled out, delighted with this development. At least it wasn't what she had feared, that Manticore had somehow figured out where she was. But still… it didn't hurt to engage in a little paranoia. "Sammy the babe magnet!"

Jess flushed but giggled along with her. "Yeah, you know, he was so polite, trying to be nice about it, but she made him so uncomfortable. She's French, and didn't seem to speak a lot of English. At least that's the impression she gives off to the guys. I've heard her hold entire conversations in English and never once make a mistake."

"So she bears watching, huh?" Max sympathized.

"Oh, I can hold my own if she ever wants to get into it," Jess waggled her eyebrows spiritedly at her friend. Max suddenly was struck by just how perfect this woman was for her brother and she did something she'd never done with an outsider before. She leaned forward and hugged Jess, who puzzled by the sudden gesture, returned it none the less.

"You are so awesome," Max giggled. "And Sam is so lucky to have found you."

"Thanks," the grin on Jess' face was huge. "I feel pretty darn lucky too."

So maybe the gesture was warranted, because all of a sudden, Jess just wasn't such an outsider anymore.

"So, to the candle shop then?" Max asked. Even if Jess wasn't too worried about this Monique girl, Max resolved to keep an eye on the girl, who had now finished off her phone call and was heading past them with a determined stride. She'd had ample opportunity to study human nature and something inside her screamed that this girl, whoever she was, needed to be watched.

"May as well," Jess nodded. Carefree, they continued to chat as they made their way through the mall.

They arrived at the candle shop and Max, who'd never really had occasion or excuse to look over candles, was stunned to see how much they cost. That led to Jess explaining why these candles, large and elegant, scented and decorated, were a little pricier than plain old tapers.

As Max watched, Jess lingered near one attractive display, though it wasn't all candles. She'd fingered the price tag, sighed to herself, let it drop, but Max could see that Jess really liked the little tabletop waterfall. Inspiration struck her as she approached.

"That looks cool," she enthused as she scanned the mechanism that recycled the water through the fountain.

"Yeah it is," Jess agreed. "Sam had one of those little waterfalls. He said it was soothing, helped him study. But Rick broke it and he never got another."

"So he'd like it too?" Max asked casually.

"Oh yeah," Jess nodded. "We could put it on the desk. The light would be right over it. It'd be nice. But," she heaved a long-suffering sigh, "it's just a little too pricey at the moment."

Intrigued, Max flipped over the price tag. Her eyebrows flew up as she realized that Jess was indeed right. Way more than she'd been expecting. But then again, everything on the West Coast seemed to cost either more than she was used to, or more than she expected. Not that it was a problem for her. If she didn't like it, she could just move on to somewhere else.

"So does it come in a kit or something?" she asked. "Or do you have to buy all this stuff separately."

"No, it's all together," Jess answered. "I suppose if I would quit buying so many frilly little things, I'd be able to get this."

"Hey, those frillies serve a purpose too, don't they?" Max quipped, causing Jess to laugh. While the girl was recovering, Max leaned down to the section underneath the display table and pulled out a box containing the very fountain that Jess wanted. She caught Jess' startled gaze. "Consider it my housewarming gift."

"Oh no, Max," she protested at once. "You don't have to."

"I know," the teen smiled. "And that's why it's so much fun. I can because I want to." Not giving Jess any more chances to protest or demure, she headed over to the cash register with it. Once she realized though, that Max had no intention of backing down on the issue, she busied herself finding some shades of glass pebbles to line the bottom of the fountain with. She ended up with three pouches, one in green, one in blue and the last in a deep amethyst. Max was reaching for them, but Jess held them back.

"You've already done enough," Jess grinned. "These were my idea."

"All right," Max grinned. She had no idea what Jess was doing with bags of rocks, but she was sure if she were patient, she'd find out.

Once again giggling as they left the store, Jess suggested that they put the fountain in her car and then head over to the largest clothing chain to do some browsing. Max agreed, so that she could have her hands free as she shopped. It wasn't something that she chanced to do as often as people seemed to expect of her. That didn't mean that she didn't enjoy it occasionally. And shopping with another woman was much different than shopping with three impatient men.

Once they entered the store, Max found that they were near a cosmetic counter. That wouldn't have been a problem, except that they ran smack dab into the infamous Monique.

Who just happened to be furnishing a spray bottle of perfume in her hand. Max noted that there seemed to be some brass plated nametag on her blouse, though it was obscured by the length of silken black hair curling around it.

"Bonjour Jessica," Monique greeted with a grin that could only be called predatory.

"Monique," Jess' tone was once again frosty. She moved to step around the other woman, but Monique stepped into her way again and held the tiny perfume bottle aloft, but her attention was obviously elsewhere. Max casually followed her glance and saw that just down the aisle, a guy, wearing dark slacks and a white dress shirt and tie was watching them. Max could see the nametag he wore, indicating that he was an employee as well. Could he have been Monique's boss perhaps?

"Voulez vous aimez essayer une partie de notre nouveau parfum 'Ambrasé'?" Monique asked suddenly in her native tongue. Without waiting for an answer, she liberally dosed both Max and Jess with the perfume she held.

Max, having never been the recipient of unwanted scenting before, even Rumsfeld knew better than to try that, didn't have a chance to defend against it. Jess, seeing what was coming, was able to turn her head away, but it caught Max fully in the face. She sneezed. Violently. But through the sudden fit, she could definitely see the satisfied look on Monique's face as she abruptly moved off, calling out in French to another customer, never once looking back at them.

Jess grabbed Max by the arm and managed to steer her away from the flow of customers as the younger girl continued to sneeze. "Oh God," Max gasped. "That stuff is foul."

"That Monique," Jess growled. "What a bitch!"

Max tried to laugh suddenly, through the sneezing fit, but it ended up more sounding like a sick mule. Jess tried to hide a grin but failed. "Are you okay?" she asked solicitously. Max sneezed once more and then nodded.

"I'll be fine," she assured the blonde, after finally drawing in a long deep breath. "I just wasn't expecting that."

"You're right though," Jess noticed as she grimaced over the scent that lingered around her friend. "That stuff is gross."

Max, trying to breathe shallowly nodded. "Yeah, do you mind if we skip any more shopping so I can go shower."

"Not at all," Jess stated emphatically. As one, they turned on their heels and headed back to Jess' car and Max's bike. They headed back to the apartment and once Jess had opened the door, Max made a beeline for the bathroom.

Once inside, she stripped, thinking that she'd have to also wash her clothes immediately. She shook her head as she stepped under the warm spray. She'd always figured that French perfumes at the very least, were supposed to be light, fragrant and appealing. But this whatever that Monique had sprayed her with was so musky, it was definitely not marketable. The odor clung to her like she was walking through a sticker bush. Or maybe like burrs, or Velcro. Whatever the proper metaphor was, Max didn't care. All she wanted was the good clean, familiar scent of her own soap.

Jess was busy setting up the gift that Max had given them when she heard a key in the lock. She straightened up from where she was leaned over and smiled when Sam entered. His face puzzled and then brightened when he saw her.

"Hey," he greeted as he came over to drop a kiss on her lips. "I thought you guys were going shopping."

"We did," Jess muttered dryly. "Had to cut it short though."

"How come?"

"Monique struck again," Jess snarled. Sam could see the warning signs of a rant coming on. Thankfully, for him, the woman's attentions had moved on shortly after Jess had made it clear to the woman that Sam most definitely was not interested. It wasn't like he hadn't tried that himself, but the woman had never seemed to get the hints. Perhaps Jess' full on confrontational style was better suited for that sort of thing. But Sam just had a hard time saying stuff like that to women.

"What'd she do?" he asked, amused. He was quite sure that whatever had happened, Jess and Max could handle themselves. But if Jess had explained the situation to Max, he knew he was in for some teasing from his sister.

"She got a job at the department store, selling perfume," Jess explained. "She tried to spray this foul junk on us." She lifted her arm for Sam to smell. He was making a disgusted face before she could even get her sleeve close enough to his nose.

Sam jerked his head back and waved his hand in front of his face to dispel the scent. "Oh that's disgusting."

"Well it certainly won't sell at all," Jess decided. "If it actually was the real perfume she was supposed to be selling. She caught Max with it full on, in the face."

"Poor kid," Sam commiserated. "Bet she was pissed off."

"She was too busy trying not to sneeze herself to death," Jess smiled. "I hope she's not allergic or something. She's showering right now."

"I don't think she is," Sam was thoughtful for a moment. "I don't know. Max was never into girly things like perfume and make-up and stuff." He noticed his girlfriend's raised eyebrow. "Not that there's anything wrong with it. Just, she never had a woman around to share this stuff with."

"I know," Jess assured him as her face brightened. "She mentioned it a few times. I guess I can't quite get it, since I've still got my mom. Just really lucky that way," she ended softly, already wrapping her arms around Sam's waist. She knew that he was a little sensitive about the subject about family, his in particular. But knowing how he'd lost his mother when he was a baby and then with his father never remarrying, she could certainly sympathize. She didn't know what she'd do if she lost her mother.

"And I'm lucky to have you," Sam murmured into her hair as he relaxed his body against hers. They stayed that way for a moment until they heard the shower turn off.

Oh!" Jess suddenly cried out, pulling back to look up at her boyfriend. "Look what Max gave us as a housewarming gift. She half-turned so that Sam could see the water fountain that Jess had been eying every time they stopped at the mall.

"Oh cool," Sam enthused. He'd had a look at it as well, agreeing with Jess that it was a little too pricey at the time. But still he was happy that Max had picked up on Jess' interest in it. He also saw that they'd gotten the little glass pebbles that Jess had wanted to decoratively line the bottom with. She'd chosen the blue to start with. Sam didn't mind, all he had wanted was the soothing sound of the water.

"So you do like it?" his sister asked from behind him. Sam glanced behind himself and smiled at Max. She looked like a drowned rat, fresh out of the shower as she was. Her hair was hanging in moist clumps around her shoulders and her skin was pink, as if it had been scrubbed heartily.

"It's awesome!" he grinned. He straightened up and turned to face her fully. "But you're sure…" He trailed off, not quite sure how to put his query. Max seemed puzzled for a moment, until she realized what Sam was asking.

"Hey Sammy," she teased, "you know me. I mean, I am the one who raised the cash to buy a motorcycle in just a few weeks. Remember?"

"What?" Jess asked, having followed along with the conversation fairly easily. She'd been sort of worried too, that Max might be spending her limited cash on them and had already decided to get around her attempts to buy groceries and stuff for them.

"Oh, didn't Sam tell you?" Max wrinkled her nose. Jess shook her head. "I'm a certified genius, whose main genius happens to be making money. At least at the moment."

"Really?" Jess grinned. "That must be a nice talent."

"Well it certainly doesn't hurt my feelings," Max laughed. "I'm gonna go get dressed. And then I need to throw my clothes in the wash. They're almost as bad as my hair was."

Jess nodded sympathetically. "As soon as I'm done setting this up, I think I'll do that as well. That stuff is so disgusting."

Max smiled again and turned away to retrieve her duffel bag. She hadn't been expecting Sam to be home yet, or she would have taken her clothes in the bathroom with her. But it wasn't that unfamiliar a situation, living in close quarters as they did for so long. At least Sam had never walked in on her after a shower as…

Max closed her eyes momentarily against the brief surge of some fathomless emotion that seemed to play across her very skin. She had sworn to herself that she wasn't going to think about Dean. Not right now. Someday soon, yes. Like tomorrow. That was always a good day, because it always became today and then she'd never have to worry about it. Just leave it to tomorrow.

But she knew she was deluding herself. She couldn't go back to Dad and Dean until she had worked these feelings for him, feelings that had had five years to grow, out of her system. That she had no clue how to accomplish this was one of the major boulders in her way.

It wasn't so much that she had to worry about herself. She had after all been trained since birth to compartmentalize her feelings. She'd done so for long enough around her family that she had been pretty sure that they hadn't a clue. Except for that comment that John had made the morning she left. But then, John was practically a genius at figuring these things out. Max chuckled ruefully to herself. She should be grateful that John hadn't fully turned that talent to discovering her past. If he'd ever had one hint that she was more than she seemed, or that there was more to Manticore than genetic testing, he would have been on the trail like a bloodhound. He wouldn't have given in or given up. At lest until Manticore had caught wind of his snooping and eliminated him. So it was a thankful Max who silently graced whatever deity that she could think of when John had cast aside his interest in the government funded project.

She sighed heavily to herself, realizing that she had once again managed to distract herself from her original topic of internal debate. She was getting awfully good at that. It was too bad that Manticore had wired her in the talent of parallel processing. She wondered then, how many conversations she actually could keep track of without screwing up and there she went again.

Fingering the edge of a bright blue t-shirt, Max realized that given the givens, there was no way that this whole situation could have a positive outcome. At best, all she could do was steel her nerves and face whatever came her way with her head held high. If it ended in the demolition of everything she had built in this world, well, she'd just find a way to build a new life. She had been a Manticore soldier, now a Winchester. Survival was all she knew.

"Well good riddance I say," Max drawled as Sam pulled open the front door of the diner. Max entered the establishment, grateful for the warmer air. Even though it was February in California, the air had a decided chilly nip to it. Sam followed in after her, continuing the discussion they'd been having since he'd returned to the apartment and asked her to go out for lunch with him.

"Well I still wonder why she dropped out," Sam shrugged, unzipping his jacket. "But really, it's nice not to have to plan my day to try and avoid her."

"The path of least resistance, huh?" Max chuckled wryly. She caught Allie's eye and nodded to the woman. She really was a nice person, if a bit overenthusiastic about some things.

"Hey Allie!" Sam called. He motioned to a booth and the pair of them took a seat, pulling the menus from between the napkin dispenser and the salt shaker.

"You know, maybe she realized that technically, what she did to me was assault and didn't want to have to deal with that hassle," Max grinned.

"Spraying you with perfume wasn't assault," Sam corrected, though he wore a matching grin. "It was just rude. And you can't have Monique arrested for that."

"What about for giving me a cold?" Max quipped. Sam smiled at her. For the first time in a long time, his sister had been sick. And not the serious sick in which he feared for her life. Surprisingly, she handled it fairly well. Granted, it was just a lot of sneezing and a running nose and a mild headache. Jess had sympathized and made her homemade chicken soup, but aside from that, Max had just gone on like nothing was wrong.

"Yet again, not an arrestable offense," Sam mockingly sighed. "Although if you give it to me…" he warned threateningly. Max grinned and leaned across the table, deliberately sneezing in her brother's face. Sam leaned back, squinting at her. "You are so gross. No wonder you and Dean get along so well."

Max sniffed heavily, her eyes dropping to the table. "Yeah," she murmured softly. But what else was there to say? That they'd gotten along so well that they'd gotten well past the point of sibling bonding? Definitely not something she could share about one brother to another. She shuddered mildly as she contemplated just how Sam would react to that. To say he'd be freaked out, and given what he'd seen in his life, that would be hard to pull off, but nonetheless, she didn't figure that he'd handle it well.

"Are you cold?" Sam asked solicitously, seeing her shiver.

"Hmm?" Max asked, glancing back up from where she'd been pretending to peruse the menu. "Oh, yeah, a little. I'll probably try that chowder you were raving about." They were quiet for a moment as Allie approached to take their order. They joked around with her for a few minutes and then the girl left to get them their drinks.

"So actually," Max drawled, after putting her menu back. "What I'm really wondering, is why you suddenly felt compelled to drag me out for lunch? We could have stayed at the apartment."

"Oh, there's no reason," Sam tried to assure her hastily. "Can't a guy just take one of his two favorite girls out to eat?"

"Uh uh," Max grunted. "I know you want to talk to me about something Sammy. Just spit it out. Do you guys need me to take off? Am I getting underfoot too much?"

"Oh no!" Sam denied and even though it was so quick, Max could see the sincerity in his eyes. "We love having you with us. I mean, you've been about anyone's idea of the perfect houseguest. You help pay for groceries, you clean up after yourself, you bought us dinner. You even deliberately wanted to see a movie that Jess and I weren't interested in." His grin turned wicked. "Yeah, I figured it out. It was nice of you to give us so much, um-"

"Alone time?" Max asked in a saccharine tone. Sam flushed a little and laughed.

"Yeah, that," he said pointedly.

Max grinned. Jess was right. Sammy did still have a little trouble with other people knowing intimate things about him, or Jess, or him and Jess. It was interesting to her that this slight wedge had grown between them. Or perhaps, given the amount of time since they'd seen each other, it had just happened naturally. Sam had had the chance to get used to a life where he wasn't in close quarters with people all the freaking time. He could keep secrets if he wanted to and not have to worry about a family member constantly hounding him to figure it out. And he'd made a lot more friends here than he had growing up, constantly on the move. Any secrets he did wish to divulge, he could spread them around a little more. And lastly, he had Jess. That was natural as well; that he'd start to turn to someone he was intimate with. It struck Max that all the while Sammy had been moving forward, she'd done the reverse. She and Dean had had the mental intimacy as family, friends and people who genuinely liked one another and then she'd fouled it up by allowing the physical intimacy. And now, she had nothing.

"So if it's not that," Max continued, determined to shake off her maudlin mood, "what is it then?"

Sam drew in a deep breath, like a skydiver ready to take the plunge. "Well, what I was wondering was, what are your plans. For the future I mean?

"My plans?" Max echoed hollowly.

"Yeah," Sam continued on, warming to his subject. "I mean, aside from telling Dad that you'd meet up with them later, you haven't really talked about heading back that way. And I was wondering if maybe, you were, you know, thinking that maybe you'd like to do something different."

"Like what?" Max couldn't help the sharpness in her voice. For once, Sammy had actually taken her by surprise.

"Well, you could stick around here, get a job maybe," Sam suggested. "You seem to enjoy sticking around in one place. It hasn't been so bad, has it?"

Max shook her head. No, it had actually been pretty nice, not always being on the go.

"Or, you could, well there's always school," Sam continued. "I mean I know the classes I'm taking aren't your thing, but there's plenty of choice. Maybe you could even get into Stanford. Any college really. With your I.Q., they'd be head over heels to get you, right Max. Max?" Having sensed that he'd lost her somewhere, Sam studied his sister who was now staring over his shoulder.

Wondering what could have possibly grabbed her attention so completely, Sam half-turned in his seat to follow her gaze. Which seemed to be riveted to the television playing softly behind the counter. As Sam tried to focus on what seemed to be a news bulletin, Max sprang from her seat and hurried to the counter. Feeling a strange sense of foreboding in the pit of his stomach, Sam followed swiftly.

"Allie!" Max's voice was quiet with a sort of repressed panic that Sam had rarely ever heard from her. "Can you turn that up? Please!"

Allie, unsure about what was going on, shrugged to herself and reached over to turn up the volume. Few people came in here to watch the news, but it didn't bother her any.

Max felt her breath, heavy in her chest as suddenly there was noise along with the terrifying image that had just played out across the screen.

A female's voice was heard, "…startling footage was released to the press only this morning. The footage, caught by one of the test units of the 'Hover Drones', was taken in the city of Seattle, Washington. This has led many supporters of the new 'Hover Drones' to proclaim that while this crime was in itself a tragedy, it would never have been made public if indeed, the 'Hover Drone' hadn't been there." The woman blathered on as the footage replayed, asking that if anyone had information on the victim or the suspects of this crime, they were urged to contact the Seattle police department.

But all anyone could seem to focus on was the gritty, darkened drama playing out before their faces. A group of people were out on the Space Needle. Actually out on the platform, stationed high above the city. There was gunplay, some sort of contention over an object and then horrifyingly, someone fell.

Sam had to admit that it didn't look good, whoever the poor person was. But he didn't see the relevance until he turned to confront his sister, only to see tears streaming down her cheeks. "Max?" his concern colored his voice, low and deep.

"Seth," she whispered; her voice tiny and broken. She continued to stare at the screen and Sam's eyebrows furrowed, trying to make the connection.

"Wait! Your brother Seth?" he demanded, disbelievingly. How on earth had she arrived at that conclusion? You could barely tell from that tape if the people were male or female.

"I have to go," Max declared suddenly. She turned on her heel and hurried from the diner.

"Max, wait!" Sam called after her. Without any thought but catching his sister, he rushed after her.

"Guess I'll be canceling that order," Allie muttered to herself as she turned the volume on the set back down.

Jess, who had been relaxing on the couch, curled up with a book she'd been meaning to read, was startled by the sudden commotion at the door. She'd been vaguely aware of the noise on her floor of the apartment complex, but when the sudden banging on her door began, she was quite taken by surprise. Just as she was rising from the couch to open the door, it opened from without and all she saw was a blur as Max dashed to the corner where her bag was stashed, and a concerned Sam following after removing his key from the door.

"Max!" Sam called. "Would you please just stop a second?"

Jess glanced back and forth between the two of them, her expression crestfallen. She knew very well what Sam had taken Max out to lunch to discuss, and since she had encouraged it in her own way, she now wondered if she was partly responsible for what appeared to be a rent between the siblings.

"I can't," Max shook her head. "I have to go."

Jess nibbled at her lower lip. This did not sound good at all. She tried to catch Sam's eye, but he wasn't paying attention to her.

"Max, you don't even know for sure that it was him," Sam pointed out heatedly. And there Jess' puzzlement began.

"It was," was the teen's short reply. She hurried into the bathroom to grab the necessities that she'd left in there, most importantly her tryptophan.

"What's going on?" Jess asked quietly, once Sam's object of attention had disappeared momentarily.

Sam sighed and turned to his girlfriend. "There was an accident, on the news, in Seattle. Max thinks that it was her brother Seth who fell and-!"

"It was him," Max declared again as she re-entered the room, her hands full.

"Wait," Jess interrupted. "Her brother?" Both siblings paused and looked to her in surprise.

"You didn't tell her I was adopted?" Max asked in surprise.

"It never came up," Sam shrugged. Jess blinked away the surprise, starting to get a feel for things now. "But Max, you can't know for sure."

"That's why I have to go," she protested. "I have to find out."

"Well you could call the police department," Sam suggested. "You don't have to go tearing off.

Jess watched the byplay of emotion on her boyfriend's face and realized that it wasn't that he didn't believe his sister. He was just scared for her and what discoveries she might make. There was no way, with his schedule of classes and work that he cold follow her to Seattle immediately, so instead, he wanted to keep her there, where he could help and protect her in some measure. Her heart swelled anew with the love she felt for him.

"Sam," she spoke softly, stepping to his side. He glanced down at her. "Honey, what would you do if you'd thought Dean had fallen and might be dead?" It was harsh, but she felt that it needed to be said.

Sam swallowed heavily. There'd been nights in his life since being separated from his family that he'd had nightmares like that. In the daytime too. The sudden realization that anything could happen to your family, whether you were there or not was a sobering one. "I'd be there in a heartbeat," he admitted softly. That admission seemed to steel him. "You're right." He turned to his sister. "Go. Go check it out. I just hope…" He left it unsaid.

Max very hurriedly finished her packing. Sam and Jess followed her out to where her bike was parked. Sam helped her fix the duffel bag on the back of the bike. His quiet, terse questions ensured that she had everything she needed. Jess simply told her to call if she needed anything. Sam echoed the sentiment a moment later.

"Actually," Max spoke up suddenly. "Could you do something for me?"

"Anything," Sam assured her. She worried at her lip a moment and then took a deep breath.

"Could you call Dad?" she asked carefully. "Let him know what happened? I'm probably not going to stop too often."

Sam swallowed heavily, rapidly thinking through her request. He hadn't talked to his father since the day he'd walked out to go to college. But right now, that didn't matter. The possible death of one of Max's family superseded everything. He nodded. "Yeah, I can do that." The relief in Max's face was extremely evident, along with the knowledge that she had asked him to do something fairly huge for her. With a quick peck on the cheek and a hug for each of them, Max straddled her bike and was ready to go.

"Drive safe," Jess told her sternly, though she did soften the directive with a sad smile.

"Call me when you get there," Sam's was completely an order, but an understandable one. Max nodded. She started the engine and slowly pulled away. Sam and Jess watched until she had disappeared around the corner, then they regarded each other for a moment before heading back up to their apartment. It was a horrible thing that Max visit had to end on such a note and neither of them wished to address anything else at the moment.

But once in the apartment, Sam knew that he'd better get his appointed task over with. There was no sense in putting it off, no matter how he might feel about it. As he let go of Jess, who returned to her seat on the sofa, Sam crossed over to pick up the cordless phone from its base. As he turned it on and began to punch in the numbers of his father's cell phone, he felt a sneeze coming on. _'Just typical,'_ he thought wryly to himself. _'Max shares everything with me. All the news, their new numbers and now of course, her cold.'_ But the dry amusement he'd found momentarily died as the call connected and began to ring through.


	29. The Good Father

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. There is also some information taken from or based upon the Dark Angel books, which do not belong to me. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only. Also, some ideas and happenings were taken from the Dark Angel books, which belong to the author of said books and not to me.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: Dean/ Max, Sam/ Jess

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Twenty-eight

The Good Father

John swore to himself as he heard his cell phone ringing. Wasn't it just typical that it rang when he wasn't in any position to get to it? "Dean?" he called, wondering if his son was back from retrieving a take-out lunch yet. But he hadn't heard the car return, or anyone moving about in the motel room they'd taken.

Normally John wouldn't have been in the bathtub, but the morning's fruitless efforts had ended up in a sewer. John had borne the stink long enough to magnanimously allow his son to use the facilities first. But then he'd sent Dean out and allowed himself a luxurious half-hour after a desperate shower to rid the majority of the stench and gunk from his body.

Hearing it ring again, John sat upright and wondered if he had time to get out and get it before whoever was calling was transferred to voicemail. It was set to ring five times before that occurred and it had ringed twice. It was almost fruitless to try. But at the same time, John would need to answer, because it might be something important. So he went ahead in the process of getting out of the tub and finding his towel and heading out to the main room.

It was almost comical, the way the bathroom door and the front door opened at the same time. Dean and John stared one another for a moment before Dean entered and kicked the main door shut behind himself. John didn't worry about the bathroom door, just padded over on bare feet to the table where he'd left his phone. He didn't care one whit that he was leaving wet footprints everywhere he stepped.

"Heard the phone," Dean commented absently as he set the take-away box on the table. John could smell the prominent flavors of Mexican food wafting over to him. Judging by that the food was in boxes, instead of bags, John figured Dean must have found a more authentic restaurant than the fast food chain.

"Couldn't get out of the tub in time," John explained curtly as he anchored his towel before picking up the phone. The view screen informed him that he had missed a call from a number he didn't recognize and that he had one new voicemail.

"Who was it?" Dean asked, noting his father's frown.

"Don't know," he shrugged. "I'm sure I'll find out." All he did recognize about the phone was that it had a California area code. It crossed his mind briefly that perhaps Max had been unable to use her cell phone and was calling from elsewhere. He pushed the appropriate buttons, completely shocked to hear his youngest son's voice. Dean made another noise, preparing to ask something, but John waved a hand at him with quick, sure motions. Effectively telling him to shut up while John listened to the startling message.

As the information Sam was passing along began to come together for John, he crossed the room to the television and switched it on. He muted the sound and began flipping through the channels, obviously looking for something. But whatever it was, it wasn't there and so he shut the television off again, just as he shut off the phone. The snap of the plastic meeting plastic echoed loudly in the room.

"Son of a bitch," John swore softly.

"Everything okay?" Dean asked laconically, digging into his food. "Who was that?"

"It was Sammy," John replied, momentarily amused at Dean's shock, despite the information he'd just been given.

"Ah, is everything okay?" Dean hesitantly repeated his original question. He'd stopped all motion, knowing the enormity of his younger brother voluntarily contacting their father. It could only be bad news.

"No it's not," John sighed heavily. "They're all okay," John assured his eldest as quickly as he could, knowing how Dean could jump to conclusions, or storm off half-cocked. 'But it's bad news nonetheless."

"What's going on?" Dean demanded, leaning forward to encourage his father to hurry up and tell him before there was trouble of the temper tantrum type.

"Sam said that Max saw a news report from Seattle," John explained, going over the points Sam had made in his mind again. "Someone died and she's convinced it's her brother Seth." He paused to let that sink in. "She's on her way there now to find out what happened."

Dean's eyes fluttered close as he threw his fork down. "Oh son of a bitch," he groaned. John half-smiled. His sentiments exactly. "Hell, she's gotta be going nuts."

John had realized that as well and he had dialed his daughter's number, saying to Dean as he put the phone up to his ear, "Sam said she'd call us when she got there." Dean nodded and picked up his fork to toy with the food. John waited as patiently as he could, but Max's phone continued to ring. Finally it kicked him over to voicemail. Taking a deep breath, he listened to her strong voice directing him to leave his name and number.

"Hey, it's Dad," he finally spoke after the beep indicated it was time. "I just heard from Sam. Call me as soon as you can and we'll figure out what to do, okay? Love you and take care."

"She took it off auto-answer?" Dean surmised, looking a little disappointed.

"Or it's shut off so she won't be distracted," John figured. Suddenly he slammed his hand on the table. "Damn it! We need to finish this case, on the double."

Dean was about to argue, but his mouth closed as he realized that his father was right. If Seth were dead, there was nothing they could do about that particular fact. Yes, he, they wanted to be there for Max, whatever she had to deal with. But at the same time, this thing they were hunting had killed in the past and by all indications would kill again. They needed to take care of it. Now, if Max or Sammy were in danger, Dean knew that both he and John would say to hell with everyone else. But that hopefully wasn't the case, nor at any time would it be.

It took them longer than they'd hoped to get done with their current case. John had heard from Max, telling him that she'd finally reached Seattle. The body had been taken already from the medical examiners office, had already been claimed. Whoever had done that had also taken all records of the incident. She'd been thinking of talking to the police, but if whoever had taken the body had been able to command the files, then the police might be out of the loop. And then there was also the fact that she didn't know what name Seth had been using. Without knowing that, there was no way that she could prove her relationship to him and therefore, no reason that the police would talk to her about an ongoing case. She had joked with John that she could always break into police headquarters and steal whatever information they'd compiled that was off the record. John had the sensation that she wasn't actually totally joking about that. So he'd simply warned her to be careful and let them know what she found out.

Two weeks after that, John had called her again, asking how things were progressing. Aside from the fact that Max believed that Seth may have been working for someone else, after all, why would her brother have been in a situation like the one that had led to his death, there was nothing new on that front.

It was… interesting at least, to hear that she'd made friends already. And had gotten a temporary job.

"Well how on earth did that come about?" John asked about the roommate, slightly amused. Max had explained that she was working a normal job because she needed to make some cash and didn't have time to set up any scams and didn't feel that using her credit card for so long in one place was a good idea. John had agreed with her there.

"Well," Max drawled, amused as well. "I stopped for a coke at this roadhouse bar. And some guys were giving me trouble." She stopped and chuckled. John's eyes met Dean's, both of them wearing identical smirks. Dean bit his lower lip so that he wouldn't make the smart ass remark that was hovering on his lips. John had asked Max once and only once if she wanted to talk to Dean. She really wasn't ready yet. But John didn't feel like replaying every nuance of every conversation that he had with Max for his son. So whenever they talked in general, he let Dean listen in.

"So what did you do?" John asked wryly. He could almost see the scene playing out in his mind. His daughter walks in. Kicks ass, has a coke and merrily goes on her way.

"Well, there was another girl there, just got out of the Marines," Max explained. John made an approving sort of gurgle. "We pretty much kicked ass, had a drink and talked."

"And what did you end up talking about?"

"Well, her name is Cindy McEachin," Max explained. "She was heading back to Seattle, where she'd lived before. I told her I was on my way there too. So we decided to travel together."

"Okay," John sighed. He knew that there was no need to remind Max to watch what she said; it was so naturally ingrained in the girl.

"So we stopped again, that night, just on the outskirts of Seattle," Max continued. "There was a little diner and we were hungry. Anyway, there was this big trucker manhandling the waitress. And her boss was giving her a hard time. Well, it kind of pissed me off, so OC and I got into it again."

"OC?" John questioned, even as Dean was mouthing the same thing.

Max laughed gaily. "Yeah, her Originalness." She paused and then explained further. "That's what her friends call her. Original Cindy."

"Oh, okay," John shook his head at how outlandish it all seemed.

"Anyway, long boring story short, Kendra, the waitress got fired, didn't really care and as a thank you for defending her honor, extended the offer to stay with her while we tried to find a place to live or whatever."

"So you're staying with Kendra?" John asked carefully.

"Yeah, Kendra Mabaum," Max clarified. "OC already had a crib to go to, but she's the one that hooked me up with a job."

"And what job is that?" John demanded.

"Bike messenger," Max replied with a harsh snort. "Minimum wage, slave driving boss who 'bips' at me and crappy tips. I even had to get my own bike."

"Why don't you use your motorcycle?" John asked curiously.

"Because it made Normal crap his pants the first time I rode up on it," Max chuckled.

John heard the inflection, indicating that Normal was some sort of person. "And who is Normal?" he asked with a grin.

"Oh you'll get a kick out of this," Max giggled. "Normal is my boss at Jam Pony. His name," she paused for the theatrical value, "is Reagan Ronald. And his idol… is George Bush Sr."

"Reagan Ronald?" John repeated dubiously.

"Uh huh," Max confirmed. "Yeah, I heard from the other workers that he's been writing to the government, trying to get Bush Sr.'s birthday declared a national holiday. Except then he realized that he'd have to give everyone that day off, so now he's trying to get it made into national work-a-holic day or something. You know? What his idol stands for or something."

John just shook his head. "Like an anti-Labor Day holiday?"

"Exactly," Max crowed triumphantly. "But anyway, I scared him riding into the building with OC and he banned my bike from work ever since."

"Well that's not fair," John growled softly. "Just because he's a pansy ass…" He had to pull the phone away as his son choked on some subdued laughter.

"Totally agreeing with you there," Max responded. "But it's not so bad. Keeps me busy when I'm not looking for information about Seth."

"Any more leads on that?" John asked, switching topics with her easily.

"Nothing yet," Max sighed. "But someone did recommend a P.I. to me."

"An investigator?" John didn't quite like the sound of that. He'd learned over the years that it was better to find the information yourself. That way you had it all and didn't have to rely on hoping that the other person wasn't working their own agenda.

"I know," Max seemed to understand his hesitation. "But I'm thinking, I keep hitting dead ends. The problem is I don't know who knows what around here. I don't know whose palms to grease. This guy might have better luck with that."

"That's true," John conceded. "Oh, one reason I called," he continued, switching topics again. "We're going to be up your way next week. Did you want us to drop off the rest of your stuff?"

"My stuff?" Max asked, sounding a little alarmed.

"Your books and things that wouldn't fit on your bike," John clarified. He glanced at Dean, who seemed to be holding his breath as he waited for Max to answer.

"Oh, yeah," she murmured. "That'd be fine. I gave you my address, right?"

"You did," John nodded. "But I'm not too familiar with Seattle."

"Well, why don't you give me a call when you hit town and we can go from there," Max decided. John and Dean heard a slight beeping noise in the background on her end. "Shoot, I gotta go. Normal's paging me."

"You have a pager now?" John asked, vastly amused by that for some reason.

"We all do," Max chuckled. "He's a little anal when it comes to controlling us deadbeat anti-work morons."

"Since when have you ever been against working?" John growled, outraged that someone could lump his child into that assumption.

"If given the choice between being Normal's lackey and being a deadbeat like the others," Max explained, "well, it's obvious what I've chosen. Unfortunately, it's a commission type job. If I want to get paid, I deliver the packages. I just rebel in my own way, you know?"

"I can just imagine," John smirked. Dean was nodding his head slightly, definitely agreeing with his father. "Okay, so we'll see you some time next week."

There was just the most infinitesimal pause on her part. "Yeah, sounds good. Bye Dad."

"Bye honey." John disconnected the call and set his phone on the table, watching as his son abruptly turned away from him and moved over to his bed to fiddle with his duffel bag.

"Sounds like she's settling in, huh?" Dean asked, his tone brighter than it usually was.

"Sounds like," John confirmed.

"An apartment, a job, friends," Dean continued, his shoulders starting to slump with each admission. John could hear the unspoken desperation in his son's thoughts. With all that, what would she need them for?

"But not her family," he argued softly. "And you and I both know that means more to Max than anything else on this planet."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, turning his head to regard his father over his shoulder. "But which family?"

John blinked slowly. Maybe Dean was right. Blood always told. If she had the choice, would Max walk away from them if she found someone from her past? He'd like to think that she wouldn't. That she would make the choice to blend those lives together somehow. But given what they did, what motivated them, how could she explain that to one of her siblings that had no idea what went on in this world? John was still feeling the loss of Sammy, he just wasn't ready to let go of Max yet.

He inhaled deeply, wondering if ever there would be a day that he'd lose Dean like this as well. Regarding the man his son had become, he didn't think it likely. But in a way, he wished that he would. Out of all three of his kids, wasn't it Dean who deserved most a home he could call his own? He'd been forever following after John on this quest, this hunt. He'd rarely ever complained that he missed things in his life that other kids took for granted. Didn't the kid deserve to have a little normal for himself now and then? The answer was hell yeah, but John just couldn't see how he'd ever accomplish that.

Max was jittery. There was no use denying it. When people she barely worked with commented on it, she knew that she wasn't hiding it well. John had called just ten minutes ago, asking where she wanted to meet them. Them! Meaning that Dean was most definitely with him. This, of course, was obvious, since John had never made a secret of the fact that he and Dean would be coming together. But Max, by concentrating on other things, had managed to put off thinking about the arrival of her… What could she call him? The sibling bond they'd established had been thoroughly destroyed by her actions that night. Perhaps the friendship as well. Although, from the way John had spoken, Dean didn't feel that way. She couldn't call him lover or boyfriend, since, well heat, it was more like one night stand. And while it was exactly that, never before had Dean thought of the woman he had engaged in said activity with, the next morning. And since John had asked her if she wanted to talk to Dean and she had heard no protest on their end, Max had to assume that Dean was still thinking about her. Unless of course he'd been making a silent protest that of course, being on the other end of the phone, she wouldn't have been able to see. But there had been no covering or hurrying on of the conversation on John's part at that point. Unless John was trying to get them talking "for their own good". He did things like that occasionally. Max sighed. She was just going to give herself a headache thinking like this. All she could do was wait for them to show up, see how Dean acted and take it from there. She just hoped that she could handle a cut direct from him. Well, she consoled herself, even if she lost this brother, she still had Sammy.

Thoughts of losing family naturally turned her mind back to Seth and her search for information on her lost transgenic brother. She'd managed to find a fence that had mentioned that a kid who used to bring him cherry items had recently disappeared. So when Max had brought him a few nice items, he was happy to accept a new "business associate". Max wondered if maybe she could entice the guy into having a few beers with her. Maybe get him to loosen up some. Her attention to that problem was dragged away as she heard a familiar voice calling her name. Sketch and Theo had ridden up and were snapping their fingers in her direction.

Max grinned as she took in her new friends. Inside and out, they were totally different from one another. Different ethnic backgrounds, social backgrounds. Sketch was a total lanky assed stoner, while Theo was a more compactly built muscular guy. And while Sketch roamed the streets like a mangy tomcat on the prowl, Theo was a totally devoted family man. This reminded Max of the reason she wanted to talk to Theo today.

"Hey man!" she greeted.

"Hey Maxie," Theo returned. Sketch added his own greetings before excusing himself to go talk to another new hire, Dahlia. She wasn't giving him the time of day, but poor Sketch just couldn't resist. "You up for lunch? Jacinda made extra." He told her, referring to his wife.

Max began to gather some items out of her locker. "Actually, I'm meeting my dad and brother. They should be here soon."

"Ah cool," Theo grinned. Ever since he'd been assigned by Normal to show the new girls the ropes, he'd learned very little about Max. Cindy had done plenty of talking for the both of them. A naturally affable and outgoing guy, Theo had been with Jam Pony for years and tended to take the newcomers under his wing. "So, do we get to meet them?"

"If you want," Max shrugged, though inside it sounded like a wonderful idea. No one could make a scene that way. Theo would act as an excellent buffer. "I'm gonna wait outside for them though. Don't want Normal scaring them off."

"Good idea chica," Theo grinned. He took a moment to hang his bike on the rack provided and retrieved his own lunch from his locker and then followed her outside after they both informed Normal that they were on lunch. As Theo took a seat on a discarded stool in the alleyway, Max leaned against the wall.

"So I was looking for you earlier," Max opened up a new topic. Theo glanced up at her from where he was laying a sandwich across a paper napkin on his lap. His politely interested face encouraged her to continue. "You know those neighbors of mine?"

"Those loud party animals?" Theo grinned. He'd heard Max complain once or twice about them, more so from Kendra when she joined them at the crew's favorite bar, The Crash.

"Yeah," Max confirmed, wrinkling her nose slightly. They didn't bother her so much, as she didn't need quiet to sleep on those rare occasions that she did sleep, but tripping over their guests passed out in the hallway wasn't fun. "Well, the Super finally evicted them."

Theo's interest went from conversational to bloodhound in less than a second. "You serious?" Max grinned as he couldn't hide his eager tone.

"Yeah," she nodded. "I talked to him this morning. Told him that I had a really good friend, excellent work ethic, family man with a little boy who would love to move in immediately."

"Oh man," Theo breathed. He looked as if one of his dreams was coming true and in a way, it was. But like many other people he had learned… "That's too good to be true. What's the catch?"

Max tilted her head. "Well, there was some damage to the master bedroom wall and some trouble with the piping in the bathroom." Theo's eyes darkened slightly as he tried to figure out where she was going with that. "So I convinced my Super that it would be a hell of a lot cheaper to waive the deposit fee and have the new tenant fix and clean the place up than to contract a crew to fix it." Theo's face brightened again. "So if you want to move in, just give me the go ahead and I'll call him."

"Oh my God Max," Theo's grin covered his entire face, is whole countenance beaming like the sun. "Oh Jacinda's going to flip! We've been trying to move into a bigger place ever since before Omar was born."

"I know," Max drawled laconically.

"This is awesome!" Theo continued to enthuse. Lunch forgotten, Theo jumped to his feet to engulf Max in a huge hug. Max returned it easily, chuckling at his excitement. Being cramped in a tiny one bedroom apartment hadn't been easy for the young family, even though they never complained. Nearly crushing her with one last squeeze, Theo pulled back slightly. "You are the best girl ever Maxie Gueverra!" And still unable to contain his enthusiasm, Theo planted a huge kiss on her cheek.

"Easy Theo," Max laughed. "You'll give people the wrong idea."

"Exactly what I was thinking," interrupted a new voice. Max turned her head, as did Theo to regard the newcomer. The way Max's face lit up, Theo could only assume who this person was, although his years and slight frown of suspicion gave him more clues.

Max extricated herself from Theo's hug and turned to greet her father. "Hey Dad. This is my friend and co-worker, Theo. Theo, my dad, John." Theo politely extended a hand which John shook briefly.

"Nice to meet you sir," Theo nodded. He turned back to Max. "Hey, Crash tonight? Drinks on me." He turned to include John. "Everyone's welcome." John gave a non-committal smile and glanced at Max.

"We'll see," she said.

"All right!" Theo crowed. "If you'll excuse me, I have a few calls to make. Max, you rock!" Both John and Max watched as Theo scooped up the lunch that his wife had lovingly prepared and hustled himself back into the building they'd so recently exited,

John turned to his daughter, noting the look of apprehension on her face. He decided to go with the easy one first. "Gueverra?" he asked.

Max's face cleared and she shook her head once while shrugging one shoulder. "I used a fake id at the bar I stopped at. Cindy saw it, so I kept using it. When we got here to apply, she introduced us and I've been using it ever since."

John nodded. "And Theo?" was his next query.

"Was just informed that a sweet apartment in my building opened up, so he, his wife and their son can move in and finally have some more space, since they're in a one bedroom now" commented Max with a smile

"Ah," was his only comment.

"So," Max swallowed around the lump that was in her throat. It was now sinking in that her Dad was really here. And where John led, Dean would always follow. "Where's um… Dean?"

John frowned down at her, his face puzzled and quickly glanced around. He had thought that Dean had been following just after him. Since John knew sort of where to go, Dean had allowed him to lead in his truck. When they'd arrived, John had paused momentarily at the mouth of the alleyway to the entrance of Jam Pony so that Dean could see where he was heading while he'd parked the Impala. But perhaps he'd remained in his car. His eldest hadn't said so, but John knew that the boy was nervous about seeing Max again. Excited but nervous.

"He's probably still in the car," John shrugged. "Shall we go?"

"Yeah," Max nodded, silently exhaling a breath of relief. Another moment in which she could put off confronting that huge white elephant. She followed after her father as he led her to the truck.

Dean sat motionless in the driver's seat of the Impala. After John had turned down the final street on their way to their destination and pulled into an empty spot at a curb, Dean had pulled a quick u-turn and managed to park across the street. He'd gotten out of the car, seen his father paused at the alleyway and he'd quickly jogged across the street to follow, but what he'd seen as he had glanced down the alley had stopped him cold.

He'd been too far to hear the words passing between his girl and another guy and immediately jealousy reared its ugly head. Dean's jaw had tightened as he saw Max receive a kiss from the bastard, with no protest on her part. Just a laugh. He automatically took one step forward, not even realizing that his body was reacting in accordance of age old proprietary male countenance of protecting what was his. But once it did register with him, he stopped himself short.

He had to stop. He had to think. John had warned him so many times about going off half-cocked, with only partial information. All he had seen was some guy getting enthusiastic with Max. She obviously had to know him, since she hadn't kicked the guy's ass all over the street. Realizing that, Dean knew that he needed a moment to think this through. With another glance at Max hugging his dad, a smile gracing his face for a moment, Dean retreated to the car. Besides, his mind taunted him; wouldn't a private reunion with Max be far better than one in an alleyway? At least that way, no one would be around to see him humiliated if she rejected him.

The thought left him breathless and he gripped the steering wheel, hating himself for giving into the negativity. He winced as he realized how much of a pansy ass he was turning into over this girl. But unfortunately, since she had run off, leaving him with memories of a night he had dreamed of for years and nothing else, could anyone blame him? Dean hated not knowing where he stood. He hated vacillating between being sure of his love for her to questioning if any existed at all on her part. Moment from moment doubts had plagued him, none of it getting any better or easier the longer she stayed away. Hearing her voice when she called John had been bittersweet. He couldn't laugh and joke with her, confide in her, couldn't say one damn word for fear that she'd freak out and stop calling. What he needed to do was confront her once and for all. Get it all out in the open and figure out where to go from there. Because no matter whom the girl in question was, being a twenty-four hour a day, romantically driven sop was not Dean Winchester's style.

And for all that decisiveness, Dean missed the tense, hopeful smile and small wave that Max had thrown his way when she'd spotted him across the street from John's truck. Had missed the way the smile had slowly faded from her face at being so totally ignored. Had missed the heavy swallow of disappointment as she climbed into the passenger side of the truck. What he didn't miss was his father honking the horn at him to catch his attention that they were once again on their way.

Max directed her father to her apartment building with short monosyllabic directions. John puzzled at her sudden abrupt behavioral change. And he was pretty sure that he knew why that was. He'd also seen Dean, wrapped up in some thought, totally ignoring them. He'd honked at his son when he'd been ready to pull out, saw the startled features glancing their way. He'd pulled out, moving slowly to allow his son time to get turned around. And then they'd been off. Max would tell him when to turn, but that was about it. And since John figured that he was getting too old and frustrated to play mediator between the kids, let her have her silence. But by hell they were going to get this settled and damn soon.

They pulled up to, well it wasn't the nicest apartment building in the word, but it was serviceable. There were faint marks of graffiti that had obviously been painted over adorning one wall of the building. And there was a chain link fence surrounding it. Not that it did any good, since the gate stood open. There was no parking in the immediate vicinity for the tenant's that John could see. But the street was fairly empty for that time of day and John pulled in and cut the engine.

"So how far do we have to lug these boxes up?" he asked genially.

"Oh, um, third floor," Max replied, coming out of her funk when she realized they were there.

"Is your roommate home?" John continued to ask as he climbed out of the truck and moved around back to retrieve one of the boxes of books that he'd been hauling.

"Not today," Max shook her head. "She's got a gig temping at the elementary school today. Apparently you don't need your teacher's license here to sub."

"You don't in a lot of places," John answered. "Is that what she does?"

"Actually, for a while yeah," Max nodded. "But then she decided that she had a better head for languages and decided to become an interpreter. Only problem is, the jobs are kind of slow in that field at the moment."

"Well I'm sure it'll pick up eventually," John nodded as he dropped the tailgate to allow easier access. They were both aware of the Impala coming along the street towards them.

"Why don't I go ahead and get the doors," Max decided hurriedly, not giving John a chance to argue. She was off like a shot. John sighed heavily. He was about at the end of his patience with the pair of them. If this kept on much longer, he was liable to bang their heads together and hopefully knock some sense into them.

Dean watched Max hurry off to the building, pulling her keys from her pocket as she did so. He pulled in smoothly behind his father's vehicle.

Climbing out of the Impala, he met his father in the road.

"What's up?" he asked, a little harshly.

"She's going to open the doors," John replied calmly. "Look, Dean, let me talk to her alone for a few minutes. I'll leave the door open. Third floor." He made to follow his daughter while Dean glared at him, frustrated.

"And what the hell am I supposed to do?" he demanded loudly.

"Pack her stuff in," John swung around and favored his eldest with a smirk, before turning back. He carried with him one small box of forgotten clothing. After he caught up to Max, who was holding the door open for him, he held it out before himself. "Is it okay if we wedge the door open? That way Dean can get everything in and then we can move it up."

"That'd be fine," Max nodded, glad at the momentary reprieve. "I didn't think there was that much I'd forgotten though."

John shrugged. "Well… I was kind of hoping I could leave some of my stuff with you. Gets kind of annoying packing along tons of books and crap that we seem to keep accumulating."

"Your stuff?" Max smiled. Since when did her father carry extraneous things along with him on the hunt?

"Hey, I read too I'll have you know," John teased and then sobered. "Actually, I never realized how many books I found, read and then threw in the back of the truck once I was done."

"How many?" Max asked as she led him to the elevators.

"Couple boxes," John shrugged. "You can read any that you like if you want. Or hell, throw them out. I guess I really don't care."

"Why waste good money," Max grinned. She was always on the prowl for something new to read. She pressed the button for the third floor, the ride not as quiet as some she'd had, but it accomplished the goal. She led John to her apartment, once again employing her keys. The door opened immediately into the entryway with the kitchen off to their right. John could see that it was typically West Coast small. But then, two girls on their own didn't really need much.

"Bathrooms over there," Max pointed out, gesturing to the closed door just behind the kitchen. "That's my room," she told him, pointing next to the open door past a short wall at which a table and a few chairs had been set. "Kendra's room over there," she swung her arm and pointed to the only other door just to their left. That left the living room which contained a sofa, a chair and a desk pressed up against the large bay window.

"Not bad," John smiled. He stepped all the way in, leaving the door slightly ajar, an indication for Dean of which apartment he was to come to.

"So did you want to eat here or go out?" Max asked breezily. "I think I can throw something together. In fact it might be better, 'cause I'll have to be back to work before too long."

"Yeah, that's fine," John replied hastily. He really wanted to settle a few things with Max. And the more he saw her in these surroundings, the more he believed that he was going to be getting answers he might not like. He followed her to the kitchen, going the opposite way around the island that separated kitchen and living room. He found several stools under the counter ledge and pulled one out to perch on. "Max, what's going on? What are you doing?"

Max flinched at the question, but determinedly pasted on a bright smile as she straightened up from the refrigerator. "I'm making lunch. What does it look like?"

"No," John's voice was quiet. "I mean, what are you doing here? You've really settled in. Is this what you really want?"

Max turned to face her father, setting the lunch meat, tomatoes and margarine she'd gathered on the island between them. "I don't know," she answered quietly, honestly. She fiddled with the packages a moment. "Maybe," she admitted hesitantly. She echoed John's sigh, realizing that at this point, there was just no more putting it off. No more chances to evade the issue. "When I was in California, with Sam and Jess," she began slowly," we talked about this."

John held his silence, waiting to see where she went with this. He assumed that she must have been referring to Sam, because she'd never discussed things like this with him.

"Sam wanted to know too if I was ready to settle down," she gave John an apologetic smile. "I think it all boils down to… Seth."

"What about him?" John asked cautiously. Had she learned something new about her brother that she hadn't shared yet with him?

"Dad," Max began with a pained look on her face. "This is the first time that I've ever had any clues about where they might be. And I have to know. If I stay here…" she took a deep breath. "I think I might have better luck finding my family if I'm in one place."

"We've never stopped you from looking for them before," John pointed out, slightly hurt.

"I know," Max hastened to reassure him. "But I think that's why I failed to find them."

"What do you mean?"

"We were always moving around," Max shrugged awkwardly. "And that was fine. But I was never in one place long enough it seemed to ever find anything out. If I stay here, then I'll have the time to look. It won't always be…"

John knew exactly what she would have said. The same thing Sammy had said. With him, it was always about the hunt. He glanced away, knowing the heaviness in his heart, knowing that once again he was losing another child. But this time, having learned from his mistakes with Sam, he knew that he had to handle it different… better.

"Max," he began,

"Dad, ever since we met, I've been looking for them," Max interrupted quickly, her eyes beseeching. "You can't ask me to give that up."

The words hung unspoken between them. _Just like I wouldn't ask you to give up looking for the thing that killed your wife._

John nodded slowly. "I understand. But, what about Dean?"

"What about him?" Max asked harshly, bluntly. Tensing at the moment.

"Hell Max," John gave a low grunting laugh, "The boy's dead gone in love with you."

Max was startled at the word John had thrown out and felt a brief soaring in her soul. Love, he was in…But just as quickly she shook her head. No, it couldn't be true. There would have been signs of it, wouldn't there? It had just been the pheromones. He'd been reacting to the apparently irresistible scent she'd been emitting. It was just… "A mistake Dad," she snarled. "That's all that night was. A huge mistake. It shouldn't have happened, but it did. And maybe...," her voice softened as tears threatened. "Maybe saying that it was love was just the best way to make it acceptable. But it's not acceptable and it won't ever be. I can't…"

John was on his feet and around the counter separating them in a heartbeat. He pulled the girl to him and felt her lean into his strength for a moment before she pulled herself together.

"Is that the way you really feel about it?" he asked gently.

Max drew a shaky breath, .pressing herself to meet her father's eyes. "Yeah Dad, it is. If I had known that that would have happened, I would have left…"

John never had the chance to respond as they were both distracted by a loud thump outside of the apartment. Neither was expecting it and threw each other curious glances. And then John realized what it had been. Dean must have heard… "Damn it," he swore softly. This surely wasn't the way he'd wanted Dean to hear that Max wasn't interested in a relationship with him. No man wanted his feelings to be called a mistake.

Max also, must have realized what was going on. "Dean?" she asked of her father and John nodded. She sighed heavily. "You should go."

John glanced down at her. "He'll be okay for a minute," John assured her. But in truth he was torn. Both his kids were hurting and there didn't seem any way to make this better. Not now when Max had rejected the one thing that Dean had hoped for. In a way John had hoped for it too. A little bit of normalcy for his kids that wouldn't cost them their sanity trying to hide parts of who they were from a person who couldn't possibly understand their lives.

"Dad," Max's shoulders dropped and she moved away from him to lean against the counter behind her. "Things got out of control that night. It wasn't Dean's fault and maybe I should have stuck around. But I didn't. I made this choice and I'll live with it. I have been living with it, but I… Dean didn't know and he's your son. I'm just…"

John could see on her face and was startled that she really thought that there was still a difference between her and his 'real kids'. With a rueful snort he moved forward to put one hand on her shoulder. "Max, you are my daughter because I love you. And nothing is gonna change that. Not now, not ever."

"I know Dad," Max whispered, though he could tell that a huge weight of concern was lifted from her shoulders by that, though the sentiment didn't seem to reach to her eyes. "What I was trying to say though, is I'll be okay. I think Dean might need you more right now. So you should go."

John debated her words. This was one of the hardest things about being a parent. How did you choose between your own children? Well, truth of the matter was, you didn't. But since Max had pushed him that way, John knew he had to go where he was needed. With a kiss to her forehead and an admonition to call him whenever she needed and a promise that he'd always be there for her if he could, John walked away from his daughter, wondering what the world would throw at them next.


	30. A Letter Home

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to R for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: Dean/ Max, Sam/Jess

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

**A/N-** This chapter takes place over a long period of time. The chapters will alternate between regular and bold.

When It Changes

Chapter Twenty-nine

A Letter Home

_...really worried about our eldest. Hearing what Max said has really torn him apart. We always knew he was kind of wild, but lately... Mary, I don't know what to do for him. He's drinking all the time. And the women... Every town we stop in... I tried once to talk to him, to figure out what was going on in his mind. And I think he thinks he's moving on with his life, but he's just wallowing. And there's nothing I can say to him to help. I don't know what to do. More than ever I wish you were here. Each day without you is just another drop in the ocean of my loneliness and pain._

John slowly withdrew the sheet of folded paper from his pocket. He held it in his right hand, not needing to open it. The words were etched indeliably on his soul. They always were. He had never done this in front of any of his children before and wondered what Dean would say. But when his son had turned away to plant the shovel he'd been using on this latest salt and burn into the grassy expanse beside him, John took his chance. He tossed the letter into the flames.

"What was that?" Dean demanded, his voice rough and gravelly. John started and inwardly cursed.

"Nothing," John shrugged. "Just some paper."

"Uh huh," Dean eyed him for a moment and then shrugged. If his father wanted to burn some paper, it wasn't any of his concern, except, why did he wait until now. "Was it information you didn't want found?" he asked tenaciously. There weren't many things about his father that puzzled Dean, but this did.

"Something like that," John grinned softly and Dean found himself examining his father. There was just the most minute bit of softening in the old man's face as he watched the paper intently as it began to blacken, the edges curling as it caught fire.

"Yeah, except the only time you write infomration down is in that book of yours," Dean persisted.

"That's not the only time," John denied. "And it's better to burn the stuff, instead of shredding it and tossing it."

"Yeah, 'cause anyone can come along and put it back together," Dean recalled. It was a reasonable thing. They already left enough fake paper trails, they didn't need a real one out there. But still, somehting about his father's countenance was bothering him. "So why did you wait until now? You could have burned it up at any point before."

John just shrugged. Dean grunted, used to but still occasionally annoyed by his father's stoicism. John noticed this and shrugged again. "It was just a paper Dean."

"With what on it?" his eldest demanded.

"Nothing for you to worry about," John shot back quickly. "It was private." That seemed to negate whatever open curiousity was being shown. But John knew that his son could be like a bulldog with some things, like his current behavior when they weren't on the job was showing now. And John wondered how he could answer Dean without really answering him. "Did I ever tell you about your third Christmas?" he announced and his son's face perked up immediately with interest.

"Don't think so," Dean replied cautiously. He waited, wondering if more would be forthcoming and a small sigh of relief escaped him when it seemed his father was in the mood to share. They rarely ever heard tidbits about their early life anymore. Back when they were little, and once John had gotten past the initial shock of Mary's death, he'd told Dean stories, trying to keep some part of Mary alive. But that had ended when Sam was older and had shown little interest. He couldn't equte those stories with anything, because he had no memory of his mother, like Dean did. And eventually, John had stopped trying.

"Oh, your mom was trying to think of some way to tell you about Sammy," John smiled softly, semi-lost in memories. He glanced at Dean and smirked. "You were driving us nuts, asking for a baby brother or sister all summer and then you just quit."

"Huh," Dean grunted, leaning on the shovel handle beside him. He wanted to ask how Christmas played into it, but figured if he did, John might recall himself and realize that he was opening up just a little.

"So when your mom found out she was pregnant, she told you," John grinned. "And you had no clue what she meant." Dean frowned and John chuckled. "You wanted a baby, not a pregnancy."

"Ah," Dean nodded, and grinned a little himself. Yeah, for a kid, there must have been a big difference.

"Well, once your mom got on the subject, you did too," John sighed. "But then she kind of gave up, since you didn't quite get it. But then, at Christmas time, she had this idea."

"What was that?" Dean grinned, getting into the mood of the story, despite their surroundings and activity.

"Well, it used to be a family tradition when she was a little girl, for the kids to write up their wish lists for Christmas," John explained. "But instead of mailing the letters to Santa, they'd burn them in the fireplace instead."

"That's uh," Dean's face contorted for a moment, trying not to knock something about his mother, but really... "kinda stupid."

"Oh no no," John grunted and smiled. "It's actually a ritual that has roots back in-!"

"Okay Dad, I believe ya," Dean hurried to interupt, before his father could get off track with a lecture.

John's wide smile showed that he knew exactly what Dean was thinking. "Anyway, the point was that the words on the letters would be carried up with the smoke and scatter in the wind and the wind would carry the message to Santa."

"Cute," Dean snorted. John watched him with a smirk on his face. And it dawned on Dean what he was implicating. "Oh don't tell me I...?"

"You sure did," John guffawed. "I mean, your mom had to help you write it out. And then we had to find someone with a fireplace. But Christmas Eve, you sent that letter up the chimney."

"And how did I react when there was no baby brother under the tree?" Dean wrinkled his nose, as he pulled the shovel from the dirt, avoiding his father's gaze.

"You were pissed," John chuckled. "To say the least."

"Of course," Dean grunted, bending over to pick up some other supplies, ready to take them back to the car.

"But we had planned on that," John recalled. "After you'd gone to bed, we wrote out a letter from 'Santa'." Dean's interest piqued again, he watched his father, still staring at the wispy remnants of the letter he'd thrown in the grave. "We had to read it to you, but it calmed you down somewhat."

"What'd it say?" he asked, curious.

"Pretty much, that Santa was sorry and he wished that you'd let him know sooner about wanting a baby, because Santa had to grow them special in a cabbage patch." Dean groaned and John laughed. "And that he went out and got the baby started as soon as he got your letter. And that the baby wouldn't be ready for a while. But if you hung on to that letter, he'd let us know when the baby was ready and you could go to the special place to pick it up.

"Let me guess," Dean frowned in amusement, "the hospital?" John nodded. "And I bet I lost the letter at some point?"

"Actually you didn't," John pursed his lips. "You carried it around in your pocket everywhere. And at night, you'd tuck it in your pillow while you slept."

"I guess I was a pretty determined kid," Dean grinned and John nodded again.

"Yeah, we had a hell of a time convincing you to use Sam's name," he shook his head.

"Oh?"

"Yup," the word popped with evidence of John's bemusment. "Day finally came and when I picked you up from the babysitter's to go pick up your Mom and Sam from the hospital, you gave the nurse the letter from Santa and then announced that since Sam was your baby, you were calling him Piddles." That surprsied Dean and he burst out laughing.

"P-piddles?" he managed to sputter out. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner? Oh man, all the years I could have been..." His choked laughter ended in a sigh. "Where did I come up with that?"

"The neighbors dog," John answered wryly. "He was forever getting into our yard."

"Piddles," Dean whispered once more to himself and then glanced up at his father. "How'd you get me to stop?"

"Your mom convinced you that the real Piddles would feel hurt that you gave Sam his name," John recalled. "So you called him other things and we kept insisting his name was Sam."

"What other things?" Dean demanded, vastly amused.

"I think Piddles was bad enough," John frowned. "I'm not gettting into the others. But eventually you kept saying 'Sam is for me-me'. That's what you called yourself. And that dwindled down to Sammy. And that was good enough for us."

Both men stood silent for a few minutes, until John finally straightened himself and began picking up his paraphenalia. He didn't kid himself that his distracting story had worked totally, because he could see the cogs whirling through Dean's mind as his son stared at the point where the letter had burned up and finally began to dissipate. If he puzzled it out, more power to him, if not, John wasn't going to say anything else on the subject.

"So what's out next job?" Dean finally asked as they trudged back to their vehicles.

"Found something in Ohio," John muttered, as he threw his shovel in the back end of the pick-up truck. "Athens."

_**Dear Sam,**_

_**How about that. I'm actually writing you a letter instead of just calling. Things have been boring around here. Working five days a week, sometimes six just for the extra cash. You'd think that Seattle being a big city, there would be plenty of excitement around, but it's strangely quiet. I guess I finally am getting used to the flow of constantly being around people, instead of being on the road all the time. I had a letter from Molly recently. She said to tell you hello and she wants all the juicy details about Jess. So either you need to get a hold of her, or we'll just have to see what my fertile imagination comes up with. (Jess, if you read this, don't worry, I won't be cruel, just... inventive.) But no seriously, I know Molly would love to hear from you if you get the chance. **_

_**I also heard from Justine. It sounds like her road trip went really well. I can't believe that she was actually jealous of me over that. But now she's getting her turn to see America and all its selling points. She sent me a picture of the Grand Canyon. What am I going to do with that? Kendra and I have been talking about getting a computer. It would really help out with her translating work and I wouldn't mind being able to email you guys. And other things too I suppose. If we do decide to get one, I'll let you know, if you'll remind me what your email address is again.**_

_**I've been getting to know a bunch more people at work. Most of them are pretty nice. I won't get into the evils of the boss. I'm sure you're tired of hearing it by now. Original Cindy (I told you about her before) took me to the place where all the messengers meet to unwind. It's called The Crash, kind of a bar. It's not bad. They play all these old dirt-biking videos. Kind of a specialized America's Funniest. But that was how I found out that one of OC's friends, Sketchy, is into bikes. He loves my Ninja and begs me to take him for rides constantly. OC says that's not all he's sniffing after, but I don't let it faze me. (And no, you don't have to come up here and threaten him Sam. He's mostly just a stoned out teddy bear.)**_

_**So did you get the summer courses you wanted? Or did you decide to work again? I'll probably know the answers to those, since I'm sure we'll talk on the phone before you get this letter. Even if I mail it tomorrow on my way to work. And how is Jess doing? Is she still putting up with you? 'Cause if she is, I have to admire her stamina... and that really was not what I wanted to imply. So I'm going to quickly change the subject. Have you decided your plans for after college yet? You know, you could always move up to Seattle and become an overworked, underpaid bike messenger. It's really better than it sounds...**_

_Dear Max,_

_Thanks for the letter. You had me laughing so hard I ended up spraying soda out my nose. Let's just say my friends were not amused. It did make Jess laugh though. She's doing well. She says she misses you. I do too of course. But not as much, since _I_ know how much of a little brat you can be. _

_No I'm not taking any classes this summer. I've just started temping in a lawyer's office. Acting as a gopher. And if you want to talk about overworked and underpaid, come on down here and try it. On second thought, don't, because I just can't see you taking orders from my boss. (He's a bit of a pompous idiot and everyone just puts up with him.) You'd probably kick his butt the first time he told you to do something you didn't feel like doing. And then you'd blame me for getting you the job and he'd blame me. And everybody else would, well, they'd probably cheer._

_But seriously, we'd love to have you come visit. You'd be welcome any time..._

**"Hey dad," Max greeted as her father picked up.**

**"Hey Maxie," John grinned. He knew it was his daughter calling, since her name had appeared across the viewscreen. "What's up?"**

**"Oh not much," Max shrugged, even though her father couldn't see her. "I was just wondering how you guys were doing."**

**"We're doing fine," John answered.**

**"So were are you at?" was her next question.**

**"Ohio," John grunted. "Got a hell of a case here. Can't quite figure it out."**

**"Oh?" Max asked as she settled herself on the couch. Her father began relating the important points of the case, not quite asking for a second opinion, but the feeling crackled down the phone line to her all the same. Once he finished, she searched her mind rapidly, but could discern no pattern or recall if she'd seen anything like that before. "Sorry, nothing comes to mind," she apologized.**

**"Yeah,' John grunted. "It's got Dean and I stymied as well."**

**"But you guys are still working on it right?" Max grinned.**

**"Actually," John drawled softly, his voice hesitatnt. "Dean's not here."**

**"Oh," Max's voice was just as soft and then grew stronger. "Is he off chasing a lead?"**

**John had to bite his tongue about what he really wanted to say. "No, actually, he has a date." The sudden silence over the line made his lips twitch. Somehow, despite what she'd told him, how she had acted, John had the impression that she wasn't quite as disinterested as she had been making herself out to be. He knew that it was an important tidbit to file away and examine at a later time.**

**"Th-that's good," she finally answered faintly. "I mean, yeah, he should go out. He uh, he can't be cooped up all the time working." John just waited while she verbally and silently worked out how she felt about that. Of course, the down side to Dean's "dating" streak that he'd been on the past few months, was that when Max heard about it, she was probably going to be convinced that any feelings that John had told her his son felt for her weren't sincere. But John was convinced that they were. Dean wasn't looking to consciously replace Max, he simply wanted to push the pain associated with her to a place that wasn't so close to the surface. And beer and other women were the only options he had right now to accomplish that.**

**"I suppose," John finally agreed laconically. "He's not really himself right now. I've tried to put up with this as long as I can, but much more and I'm going to kick his ass."**

**"Dad," she protested faintly.**

**"Because honestly, Cassie is too nice a girl to be used on the rebound," John pressed. There again was that shocked silence. It wasn't so easy for her now that she had a name to go along with things.**

**"Dad," Max whispered again, "I have to go. Kendra needs the phone." He heard the blatant lie in her voice and he hated doing that to her. But she needed to know the fallout of her decision, of her words. Because John still didn't honestly believe that after all this time, Max felt nothing for Dean. There was something there, it was just a matter of time before she admitted it and embraced it. As he said goodbye and hung up, John fervently hoped that there was something left of the Dean they knew. Not this burned out shell of a man.**

"Hello?" Sam asked softly. He'd just gotten home from work and was slightly worn out. There'd been a big meeting at the office and he'd been run ragged getting coffee, tracking down lost files and anything else every memeber of the association seemed to need from him specifically.

"Sam?" his sister's voice greeted exuberantly. "Oh my God, thank you!"

"Uh, you're welcome," Sam replied automatically, though he had no idea what she was thanking him for.

"I absolutely love them," Max continued. "I've been wearing them all day and they are just perfect!"

"Wearing what?" Sam asked, puzzled.

"The sunglasses!" she burst out. But then she seemed to realize that something was wrong. "You know, the ones you... You did send me aviation sunglasses, didn't you?"

"No," Sam frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh," Max's voice sounded a little puzzled now too. "No, I got to work this morning and Normal said that someone had sent me a present."

"Oh, well it wasn't me," Sam snorted. "I would've just sent it to your apartment. And if someone gave you a present, wasn't there a note with it?"

"No, there wasn't," Max admitted. "Just my name on it. So it probably wasn't from Dad either," she grouched and Sam's lips curved into a grin.

"Uh oh," he chuckled. "I think my baby sister has a secret admirier."

"Oh no," Max groaned. "That's just... oh it's sweet, but Saaam!" she whined.

"What?" he laughed. "It's not my fault you're so beautiful. Blame your parents."

"No, it's not that," she continued to whine. "what if it's... someone I know? And work with? And... and..."

"You think they're from Sketchy?" Sam asked, recalling the co-worker Max had talked about, the one that followed her around like a puppy dog.

"Yeah," Max sighed. "'Cause I mean, I like him. But I just don't like him... that way." She paused. "But I really love these glasses!"

Sam snorted with laughter. "Then you've got youself a dilemna on your hands."

**"Hey Sam, how's it hanging?" Max greeted as she answered her cell phone.**

**"Not bad," Sam grunted. "How're things going up there?"**

**"Oh the same old, same old," Max grinned. "Still working away, nose to the grindstone and all that happy crap."**

**"Oh, I thought you'd be home by now," Sam sighed. "Anyways, the reason that I called was-!"**

**"Oh hang on a sec," Max interupted and Sam could hear the noise level on her end had risen suddenly. "Let me get away from this crowd."**

**"What's going on?" Sam asked, intrigued.**

**"Oh, just Eyes Only is on," Max answered easily.**

**"Eyes Only?" Sam asked. Was that some kind of program that he'd never heard of. "What's that?"**

**"Just a pretty annoying one minute blurb that comes on all the time," Max chuckled. "It's part of the local cable access network. It's actually called Streaming Freedom," she explained. "And Eyes Only is this mysterious guy that rants about social and political injustices around the city and sometimes the country." She glanced back at her friends and co-workers that were gathered around the television set up in the corner of the employee lounge area. "He's got quite the cult following."**

**"Well," Sam replied slowly, "I guess that's one way to have your opinion be heard."**

**"Well it's not just that," Max went on. "This guy, he's careful not to name names and all, you know libel and slander suits would be bad for business and all. But you know, if you watch the paper and the news, he's actually onto something."**

**"How do you mean?" Sam asked, puzzled.**

**"Well," Max pursed her lps. "He'll talk about some crime that's being committed and a few days after the broadcast, some prominent local businessman or politician will have been arrested for those very crimes."**

**"Maybe he's some sort of mole for the cops or something," Sam joked. Max shrugged.**

**"I doubt it," she chuckled. "Be pretty stupid of him to be warning the bad guys before they get arrested. No, I think the guy is one of those political activists who just likes the sound of his own voice."**

**"Probably," Sam agreed. "Anyway, the reason I called was because Jess and I were wondering if you got that time off and were... hopefully, going to come see us."**

**"Actually I did," Max declared happily. "Normal gave me a week off at the end of August, start of September. Including Labor Day weekend. I have to be back the Wednesday after."**

**"Excellent," Sam enthused. "And are you coming down?"**

**"Well," Max imparted, "my plans were to leave right after work on Thursday, drive down to LA to visit Justine for a while. She should be settled by then. And after that, yeah, destination Palo Alto."**

**"Hey, that's great," Sam laughed. "Jess'll be thrilled."**

**"Yeah, I'm looking forward to it myself," Max giggled. "But you know, you're going to have to really knock yourself out to keep me entertained. It is _my_ vacation after all."**

**"Don't worry," Sam grunted. "We've got plans...**

"So what'd you get?" Jess asked, slightly breathless with anticipation. She and Sam had just said goodbye to Max a few days prior as she'd left after her relaxing and fun-filled, for Max at least, vacation. Sam and Jess had had the weekend free, but school otherwise.

"Hang on, hang on," Max mumbled as she fumbled with the gift wrap.

"It was so sweet that it was right there waiting for you when you got to work," Jess sighed. "A nice way to be welcomed back."

"Oh very sweet," Max agreed. "It's a huge box of cherry flavored jelly beans!"

"Ah," Jess cooed. "Is there a note this time?"

"Again nope," Max laughed. "But at least I don't have to be worried that someone broke something. It was supposed to rattle."

"True," Jess agreed and then her attention was diverted. "Hey Sam. Hang on Max."

Max heard Jess covering the phone and after a moment was back on. "I told Sam. You know, he's wondering if maybe it was your boss giving you these gifts."

"Normal?" Max choked out, stunned. "Ew! No!"

"Well I mean," Jess giggled, "Sam's right. He is the first one to work, he has access to the office bfore anyone else comes in."

"Oh my God," Max groaned. "No, it can't be Normal. He really, really doesn't like me."

"Maybe it's just a front," Jess suggested.

"No no no no no," Max chanted. "Normal'd rather chew off his own arm than be nice to the feckless bums he emplys!"

"All right, all right," Jess tried to soothe as she chuckled. "It was just a suggestion."

"A very bad one."

**"Hey," Max grinned as she heard someone pick up the phone on the other end.**

**"Hey Max," Jess voice greeted her, still sleepy. "What's up?"**

**"I uh... I found out who my secret admirer was last night," Max told the other woman shyly. It had been a very startling thing.**

**Jess' eyes widened and she leaned over to nudge at Sam. He grunted, but came awake, looking at her puzzled. Jess gestured to the phone and mouthed the word _Max_. "So who was it?"**

**"His name is Leo," Max told her.**

**"Leo?" Jess repeated and noticed Sam's eyebrows furrowing. She put her hand over the mouthpiece and told him, "Max's secret admirer." One of his eyebrows went up and Jess smiled at the innate, big brother, overprotective instinct that he showed. "So did you discover it or did he finally work up the courage himself?" Jess asked of Max.**

**"He um, admitted it," Max giggled. "We were at Crash, just playing pool and he came over and asked if he could buy me a drink."**

**"Uh huh," Jess encouraged.**

**"And well," Max sighed, pushing herself out of bed. She was a little sore. She usually was after a night of heat filled sex. But she wasn't about to relate that to Jess and Sam. "He asked me if I liked those jelly beans and it kinda... all came together."**

**"Oh, that's so sweet," Jess grinned. "So, is there a chance that you like him back?"**

**"Well," Max bit her lip. Did she like Leo? He was okay. She knew him from work. And he was amazingly sweet, coming up with all those surprises for her. She supposed she could do worse, especially when she couldn't have who she really wanted. "Actually Jess," she sighed, "don't tell Sam, but Leo just left, um, about half an hour ago."**

**"Max!" Jess voice was slightly shocked, slightly amused. "You bad girl!" Max heard Sam's voice in the background and heard Jess murmur. "Your sister has a boyfriend. She's gotta grow up sometime Sam." And there was another pause and then her brother's voice came on the line.**

**"What's his name?"**

**Max giggled despite herself as she pulled on her robe. "Leo Thayer. We work together."**

**"Uh huh," Sam grunted. "Yeah. And is he one of Normal's feckless bums, or what?"**

**'No, he doesn't hang with the deadheads," Max denied, knowing instantly what Sam would worry about. "Don't worry, he's a nice guy."**

**"He better be," Sam warned, his voice forcefully light, "because if he isn't, I'll come up there and kick his ass."**

**"Right Sam," Max chuckled. She could hear Jess laughingly protesting in the background.**

**"No, I mean it," Sam growled. "You make sure and tell this kid that you have a very loving older brother who will make it his life's mission to make sure that his baby sister is treated right. You know what, just give me his number and I'll tell him myself."**

**"Sam!" both women protested at once and his face softened into a fond smile.**

**"But seriously Max," he continued. "I just want you to be happy."**

**"I know that Sam," Max returned, her voice just as soft.**

**"Anyway, I'll let you talk to Jess again. I have to get ready for class."**

**"Okay."**

"Hey Sam,"

Sam's grin fell instantly as he heard Max's voice. She didn't sound happy. Nowhere close to it. "What's wrong?" he demanded instantly and Jess' head came up from where she was working on her homework.

"Nothing really," she muttered. "Just... do you still feel like kicking ass?"

Sam instantly understood that something was off with her and Leo. "What'd he do?" Jess was shaking her head slightly and mouthing somehting at him. Sam held up his hand to get her to wait. He wanted to hear what Max had to say.

"He lied to me," Max told her brother with a sigh. "Nothing horrible, you know, but still..."

"What'd he lie about?" Sam wondered.

"Well," Max laughed stiffly. "I still have a secret admirer out there somewhere," she announced.

"It wasn't Leo?" Sam puzzled. He was a little disappoionted to find that out. He'd talked to the kid once on the phone and he'd seemed like a decent enouigh guy.

"Nope," Max grimaced. "Apparently, wehn he asked me if I liked my gift, he was just wondering, not hinting. And when I assumed it was him, he kind of ran with it."

"So how did you find out?" Sam asked.

"There was another present today," Max told him. "When Leo got to work and saw me with it, he looked kind of panicked. So I um, got all gushy over the gift and said I couldn't believe that he'd get me the gold necklace I wanted."

"You wanted a necklace?" Sam grunted.

"No," Max denied. "You know me, I rarely wear jewellry." Sam nodded. "But he agreed and told me nothing was too good for me. And then I pulled out a bottle of cherry scented bubble bath."

"Busted, huh?" Sam shook his head. "Oh Max, I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Max sighed. "I am too. I thought Leo was a pretty nice guy."

"We all thought so," Sam agreed quietly.

"It's just," Max sniffled and Sam's face clouded over. This was what he'd kick Leo's ass for. Making his sister cry. "I thought that, I mean, it was so special that here was this guy, finding out everything he could about my likes and dislikes and surprising me with such... thoughtful... and then, he was just lying about it all. He didn't care about me, you know. He just used it as a way to..." She trailed off and Sam understood what she meant immediately. Leo had been after something else. He clenched his jaw and forced himself to count to ten.

"Max," he soothed, "he's not worth it. You are a very speical woman and if he couldn't see that, then you shouldn't waste your time over him. And," he added, as another thought occured to him, "look at it this way. There is some guy out there who does think you're special. That you're worth getting to know, since you're still getting gifts that you really enjoy. I mean, I know you love your baths."

Max gave a strained chuckle. "It was actually several bottles of different bubble baths and bath oils and some specialty soaps."

"Oh good God," Sam laughed. "I hope it's still just an admirier and not a stalker."

"Way to scare your sister," Jess protested quietly and Sam made a quick grimace.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I'm sure it's some nice, thoughtful, possibly geeky little computer nerd who's too shy to actually work up the courage to talk to this wildly amazing and outgoing person my sister seems to be."

"Thanks Sam," Max chuckled. She'd been right in her instinct to call Sam. She was hearing exaclty what she needed to, to get over this shock.

**"Okay, so you call me when you get there," Max instructed as her roommate picked up her carry-on bag and slung it over her shoulder.**

**"Will do," Kendra smiled. "Are you sure you don't want to come with me?" she asked again as they began to walk to the door. Kendra's cab was ready to take her to the airport. "You'd be totally welcome. And there are a lot of cute lonely guys in my town come Christmas."**

**Max laughed at Kendra's obvious attempt at what she saw as operation 'getting over Leo'. Honestly, Max had gotten over the guy pretty much after she'd talked to her brother about him. Knowing that her reaction to him had been caused by her heat, she'd re-examined everything else. She'd only stayed with him because it seemed the normal thing to do, she'd thought that he'd given her gifts and everyone seemed to expect it of her. But really, aside from working at the same place, which they didn't anymore since Leo had been fired, they had nothing in common.**

**"I'm sure," Max assured her friend. "I'll be fine. Besides, Cindy and the gang are all going to be around. I won't be totally alone," she added as she swung open the door for her friend, who had her hands full.**

**"I sure hope you won't," a new voice interupted and both females heads swung around. Max let out a startled, excited shriek and to Kendra's surprsie, launched herself at the lank hottie standing on their doorstep.**

**"What!" Max yelped as her arms went around him. He dropped one suitcase to catch her so she didn't knock him over and laughed at her exuberance. "Oh my God! What are you doing here?"**

**"I missed you," he chuckled, giving her a hug. "Do I really need an excuse?"**

**"No of course not," Max smied as she let him loose. "Did you come alone?"**

**"Yeah," Sam shook his head. "She's at her parents." He shook his head slightly at her sudden small frown. She stepped back and gestured for him to come into the apartment. "Don't worry, everything's fine. I was going to go with her, but she knew that I would rather visit you, so she told me to come. But I am supposed to call her every single day."**

**Kendra, who had been watching this interaction with amusement, realized that this guy, whoever he was to Max, was definitely not boyfriend material, since obviously, he had a significant other. But at least he was here for Max, which made her friend happy. And that was all Kendra wanted to see. She cleared her throat delicately. And both eyes swung to her.**

**"Oh I'm so sorry," Max gasped. "Sam, this is my roommate Kendra Mabaum, Kendra, my brother, Sam Winchester."**

**"Oh you're Sam," Kendra grinned. "Wow! Max never told me that her brother was such a cutie."**

**Sam blushed just slightly. He too had heard stories about the insatiable appetites of Max's rommate. "Nice to meet you," he returned. "It's good to finally put a face to the name."**

**"Wait, Winchester?" Kendra puzzled. Max and Sam exchanged glances, knowing that Kendra was obviously twondering why they had different last names.**

**"I go by my mom's maiden name," Max explained swiftly, but Kendra waved her away.**

**"No it wasn't that," Kendra sighed. "While you were at work today, some guy delivered a package here, for an M. Winchester. And obviously, I didn't know... I sent it back. I'm sorry Max."**

**"Oh," Max frowned and turned to her brother.**

**Sam shook his head. "It wasn't from me," he denied. He hefted the suitcase before setting everything down. "I brought your presents with me."**

**"Maybe it was from Dad," Max wondered but then shook her head. "No, he knows I'm not going by that."**

**"Maybe it was from Bobby, or someone else," Sam shrugged. Before they could puzzle further, they heard a horn honking from a distance and Kendra gave a visible start.**

**"That's my cab," she chuckled. "I better get going."**

**"Well here," Sam took the larger suitcase from her hand and turned back to the still open door, "I'll give you a hand with that."**

**"Thank you," Kendra smiled. "Your girlfriend is lucky to have found such a charming gentleman."**

**"That's what I keep telling her," Sam smiled as they walked back down the hallway that he'd just passed through. "Unfortunately, she tends to bring out a number of surprising things in me, which well, I'm sure you uh... I'll be shutting up now."**

**"Which Jess doesn't mind in the least," Max giggled. "Otherwise she wouldn't play with fire."**

"Okay great!" Max enthused. "We'll be there. Yeah, eight o'clock." She hung up the phone and turned to her brother, where he was lounging on her couch.

"So what's up?" he asked with a grin.

"We're invited to the Christmas Eve party at Crash tomorrow night," Max announced. "If you feel like going," she added suddenly, a frown line suddenly appearing in her forehead. "I guess I should have asked first before I said we'd go, huh?"

"It's fine Max," Sam chuckled. "It'll be nice to meet your friends. Who's going to be there?"

"Everyone from work who isn't going home for the holidays," Max shrugged. "But Cindy, Sketchy, Herbal and his girl, Skye, Marina and a bunch of others."

Sam shook his head at the names. Max certainly was living a different life in this city. And by the merriment in her eyes, he knew that it was probably the best thing that had happened to her in a long time.

**Dean listened as the phone rang endlessly. Eventually it picked up, and Dean listened to his brother's voice announce over a recording that no one was available to take the call and to please leave their name and number and they would get back to whoever it was as soon as possible. After the beep sounded, Dean licked at his dry lips and hurriedly spoke. "Hey Sammy and uh... Jess? It's me. Was just callin' to wish you a Merry Christmas." He paused for a moment and grabbed at the beer on the bar before him. He took a quick sip. "Hope you're doin' okay," he added and then shut off the phone.**

**There was noise and merriment, celebration all around him, but none of it really penetrated. The bar was amazingly full for being Christmas Eve and the bartender had assured him that it was even worse on actual Christmas Day. Dean supposed he knew that, having spent that day in rundown joints like this on numerous holidays before. A sanctuary where people went for a few hours to escape the craziness of relatives, the stress of entertaining, all that crap. It was just, always before, he'd had some member of his family with him. And now he didn't. He'd talked to his father the evening before and John had told him he'd be unavailable for the next few days. Dean grunted softly to himself before taking another pull off his beer. His father probably didn't know what month it was, let alone the day. And Dean didn't like feeling lonely. Hence the call to his brother.**

**There was one other person he could call. Unfortunately, he really didn't know the kind of reception he'd get. He'd been half hoping that she'd take the iniative and call him herself. But so far there had been nothing. He chugged a few mouthfuls of his beer as he contemplated what the hell it all meant. He knew that beyond certain appetites, he still didn't really know how the hell the female mind worked. Was she still mad at him? Was she going to keep up this silent treatment forever?**

**He realized deep down, that he was just as guilty of avoidance as she was. It wasn't like he ever called her, or checked in to see if everything was okay up her way. He'd gone from being brother, to one night stand, to... nothing. He chewed on his lower lip. And the worse thing about it, was that he'd laid down and let it happen. Or actually, let a certain someone convince him to let it happen. Of course, what his father didn't know...**

**Decided now, Dean took a deep breath and punched in a telephone number that he knew by heart, yet had never dialled. As he held the phone to his ear, he wondered just what in the hell he was going to say. He took another quick sip as the phone rang and nearly choked on it as someone slapped him on the shoulder. He spun around, just as he heard the answering mahine pick up.**

**"No one's around. Leave a message." The phone beeped at him and Dean hurriedly shut the phone off. There was no way in hell he was going to do this with company.**

**"Richie?" he demanded, puzzled by his old acquaintances reappeareance. "What the hell are you doing here?"**

**"Lookin' for you man," Richie grinned as he took the seat on the stool next to Dean. He gestured to the bartender and after a moment, had a beer placed before him.**

**"Yeah, but the question is why?" Dean grimaced as Richie waited expectantly. He pulled a crumpled bill from his pocket and tossed it towards the bartender.**

**"Thanks," Richie grunted as he took a pull of the beer Dean had just bought him.**

**"'Cause I'm doin' the honorable thing and returning this to you," Richie announced as he pulled out a small box wrapped in plain brown paper. Dean's heart sank as he recognized the box, addressed in his own handwriting. "You know, I could'a fenced that for some serious dough." Dean didn't reply and his flamboyant little friend set the box down on the bar and slid it towards Dean. "I could see why you were droppin' that kind of money though. Whatever you did must'a really pissed her off if she's still not talking to ya. Man! That sister o' yours?" Richie let out an appreciative whistle. "She's one sexy vixen! But you already knew that, huh?" He nudged Dean with his elbow, but backed off quickly as Dean levelled a glare at him that twisted his insides. Richie took a nervous sip of his beer. "I guess you should'a just sent it to the messenger place where she works, like all the others, huh?"**

**"Yeah, I suppose," Dean muttered.**

**"So I'm wonderin'," Richie drawled, "ya think she'd ever go for a guy like-!" He never got the chance to finish his question, as Dean's hand was suddenly cutting off his air supply. His hand clawed at Dean's wrist.**

**"Don't!" Dean growled shortly, his eyes narrowed and dangerous. And Richie wondered where the hell the fun lovin', free wheeling Dean WInchester he knew had disappeared to. But then, the kid was always protective over family. Richie held his hands up peacably.**

**"Yeah, I'm just gonna go, let you figure out how to get back in her good graces," Richie nodded foolishly. "Ya need me to make another delivery, just call." And with that he snagged his beer and disappeared into the crowd.**

**Dean turned the box over and over in his hands. He'd been so sure that this would have produced some kind of reaction. He knew through listening in to the conversations his Dad had with Max that she'd been thrilled with the surprises he'd had Richie sneak into her place of work. It hadn't been much to bribe one of the guys that worked there. Poor man was a disabled vet who could always use a little extra cash. And best of all, none of the other workers seemed to be aware that the boss had entrusted him with a set of keys to the place. But this had been completely unexpected. The box dropped from Dean's hands, fell to the bar, the words that he hadn't written blaring up at him.**

**"Bar keep!" he called and as soon as the guy turned his way, Dean pulled out a wad of cash and slammed it down before him. "Whiskey! And keep 'em coming!"**

_**No such person lives at this address.**_

Max clambored from her bed where she had been reading, trying to catch the phone before it woke Sam up. Kendra had had no problem with Sam using her bed while she was gone, even though Sam had offered minor protests. He'd been fully prepared when he surprised his sister, to camp out on the couch or get a motel room. But the girls had been insistant before Kendra left for her vacation.

They'd been out late the night before, celebrating New Year's Eve with her friends. And even though Sam wasn't such a party animal as some students attending college, he did unwind quite a bit. So Max was pretty sure that he'd be suffering the dreaded morning after hangover. And since he was a guest in her home, Max wanted to try and not let anything aggravate him into throwing up.

"Hello?" she asked quietly, once she'd reached the phone.

"Hey, Happy Birthday Max," her father's voice greeted her.

"Hey Dad," Max grinned. "Thanks."

"I'm sorry I'm calling so early," John apologized ruefully, "but I uh, have some business that's gonna take a while."

"What would that be?" Max asked curiously, with a shake of her head. John just never quit.

"Well, it appears I need to appease a certain bar owner after your brother's behavior last night," John sighed. "Which means time lost while I repair some things."

"Huh?" Max puzzled. She heard her father sigh again and moved to put some coffee on.

"Dean was drunk last night," John told her quietly.

"Yeah, and?" Max wondered. It was the season for it right? New year and everything.

"He was almost arrested on a drunk and disorderly," John grunted. "And you know Dean knows better than that."

"I don't understand," Max replied helplessly. In all the time that Dean had been drinking legally, that she knew of anyways, he'd never gotten so drunk that he forgot himself and got into trouble, unless there was a woman involved. And even then, it usually didn't involve the police.

"I don't either," John scoffed. "He's been like this for the past week and he won't tell me what the hell is going on. He hasn't...?"

"Oh, no, I haven't heard from him," Max denied quickly, ignoring the way her heart clenched minutely for a moment in her chest. "But um, when Sam checked his messages from here, I guess Dean called and wished him a Merry Christmas."

"Really?" John sounded surprised. "Sam's there?"

"Yeah," Max smiled softly as the coffee began to percolate. "He wanted to spend some time with me and Jess insisted. Though everything is okay, she just couldn't get out of going to her family for Christmas, otherwise she would have come too."

"Well, I'm glad you kids weren't alone," John murmured. "I would have called, but I was uh, up to my ears, literally..." he trailed off with a laugh, realizing that to any one else, it would have sounded like a very lame excuse. But Max understood perfectly. "Anyways, don't worry about Dean. I'll figure something out. So, what do you and Sam have planned for today and have you opened your gift yet?"

**Sam was just exiting class, juggling a few books in his arms as he tried to reach into his coat for his cell phone. Another one of his professors who believed that classrooms weren't the place for communicating with the outside world. He switched the phone back on and noticed that he had two missed calls. One from Jess and one from Max. After thinking a moment while he retrieved the messages left for him, he realized why Jess had called him when she clearly knew that he wouldn't be able to answer.**

**_"Hey Sam, it's me. Can you call me back as soon as you get this?"_ That from Max.**

**_"Hey sweetie, it's me. I just talked to Max and she's had some upsetting news. Can you call her back right away? Love you."_ That one obviously from Jess.**

**Quickly finding a bench to seat himself on, Sam laid the books next to him and dialled his sister's number. She picked up right away.**

**"Sam?"**

**"Hey Max? What's wrong?" he asked quietly, conscious as always of all the people milling around the campus. Family secrecy was still ingrained into him and even if they didn't have the secrets they did, Sam figured that his business was no one else's.**

**"I just got a letter from Molly," Max sighed and Sam could hear the tremble in her voice.**

**"Is she okay?" Sam asked cautiously.**

**"No," Max choked out. "Oh Sam, her doctors found a mass in her upper abdomen."**

**"Oh man," Sam groaned. That definitely wasn't good.**

**"So I called and talked to her daughter," Max went on. "They're doing the biopsy today."**

**"Okay," Sam let out a small steady breath. While he wasn't as close to Molly Gallagher as Max had been, he still really liked the old lady who had been extremely kind to their family.**

**"The thing is though Sam," Max went on, the quiver in her voice belying her nerves, "Her daughter Jeannie said that even if it turns out to be malignant, they may still not be able to operate because of Molly's other health issues."**

**"Oh Max," his head drooped. That was not the kind of news anyone liked to hear. "I'm sorry sweetie."**

**"So am I," Max uttered. There was a slight pause and then she spoke again. "I have to go Sam, Dad's calling on the cell."**

**"Okay," Sam nodded abruptly. "Keep me posted."**

**"I will. Bye."**

**Sam hung up, put his phone in his pocket, gathered up his books and headed home to his girlfriend.**

**Max, mimicking one of her brother's action, snapped her cell phone open even as she hung up the land line. "Dad?"**

**"Hey sweetie, what's going on?" John asked and Max managed a smile at the similar endearments she'd received from father and son within moments of each other. But remembering her news to impart, her smile faded. She quickly informed her father of what she'd just told Sam. John took a few minutes to take in what she'd told him, sighing heavily. "I'll tell you what," he said finally. "We're heading that way soon. I'll stop in and check up on her. How does that sound?"**

**"That would be great Dad, thank you" Max felt immediately as if a weight were lifted. She knew that really, there was nothing that John could do for their friend, but to know that someone would be there to relate the truth of the matter back to Max was a relief.**

**"All right, I'll call you after I see Molly," John told her and they then hung up.**

"Hey Dad, How's it going?"

"Not bad," John grunted and Max could tell immediately that he was in the middle of something physical.

"Are you working right now?" she asked, slightly amused.

"When aren't I?" John asked wryly. "Hang on a sec." She heard him lower the phone, the receiver rasping against the stubble on his chin. "Dean, check over there!" The rasp came again. "What's up?"

"Well, I think I finally found a fairly trustworthy PI to look into finding my family," she related quickly, bracing herself for any backlash John might give.

"Uh huh," he grunted again. "How trustworthy?"

"He comes highly recommended," Max offered dryly. "At least that's what his business card says," she joked. John groaned soflty.

"What's his specialty?"

"Um," Max bit her lip, knowing that John would scoff. "Missing pets and extracurricular tail."

It did get a laugh out of him, but then he sobered up again. "Are you sure you really want to do that?"

"Well, I''m not having much luck on my own," Max sighed. "All I've found out was that yes, someone matching Seth's despcription was in town, which I already knew. And he was apparently working for someone else before he disappeared."

"I'm sorry," John huffed, "it's just, if you've figured out that much yourself, I don't see that a PI will get much further. You know, I do know someone else that might be able to help you."

"Who's that?" Max wondered, thinking of all of John's contacts that she'd met and wondering why he hadn't offered before.

"No one you know," John declaimed. "He's just done some work for me recently. Good kid. Knows his stuff. If I asked him, he'd be totally discreet."

"Well," Max pondered it over. "You know what? Let's see if Vogelsang can come up with anything and if not, we can give your friend a call."

"All right sweetie," John conceded, fairly easily for him, which was a surprise. "No, not that one," he called and Max heard a disgruntled reply and a thump. "Sorry, I gotta go Max."

"That's fine," Max smiled. "I understand. You guys... take care of yourselves," she whispered and hung up before as she heard Dean calling his father for something.

John shook his head. This stand-off between Dean and Max had spun so far out of control he didn't know what to think about it. Days, weeks, months would go by with nothing. No overt signs of interest, care, anything. But the moment one heard the others name or voice and they were spooked. And yet, John saw the way Dean's eyes followed him any time he was on the phone with Max. And there was Max including Dean in her concerned murmurings, even if she didn't say his name. Dean looking around every time he heard a motorcycle engine roaring by. Max listening to Dean's favorite music. Pressing his lips together, John wondered again, not for the first time, if there was something more he could do to get his kids together. He chuckled under his breath as he realized how... disturbingly that would be taken by a normal person. But when had his family been normal? Not for a very long time.

**Jess tapped her fingers idly on the kitchen counter while she waited for Sam's sister to pick up. She checked the clock on the wall and knew that Max should have been home from work a while now. When the phone finally picked up, she realized instantly that it wasn't Max, but her roommate that Jess had only talked to one other time. "Kendra? It's Jess. Sam's girlfriend."**

**"Oh right, hi," the other woman's voice softened in recognition. "How are you/"**

**"We're doing good," Jess smiled. "Yourself?"**

**"Well I'm okay," Kednra sighed and Jess could hear the difference in inflection. Something must be up with Max.**

**"Is Max okay?" she wondered, thinking that maybe the girl was sick or something.**

**"Actually," Kendra grimaced, her tone dropping conspiratorially, "she's not." She continued on before Jess could ask. "She just got home a little while ago. Poor kid. She walked in on Darren screwing someone else."**

**"Oh no," Jess breathed out quickly and softly, her hand fluttering up to cover her mouth. "Is she-?" She cut herself off, again going to ask if Max were okay. But obviously she wouldn't be. Jess could just imagine the pain of being betrayed that way. It didn't matter that Max had only been going out with Darren for a few months. Betrayal was just that. "Do you think she'd like to talk?" she asked instead.**

**"I can ask," Kendra informed her. "Just a minute." Jess heard nothing but muffled sounds and after a few minutes, her boyfriend's sister, her friend, was on the line.**

**"Jess?"**

**"Hey Max," she greeted softly. "Kendra told me what happened. Feel like talking?"**

**"What's there to talk about?" Max sighed angrily.**

**"I can only imagine," Jess replied, feeling incredibly put out on her friend's behalf. "I mean, I know Sam would never, but my ex? Used to be a complete flirt. I never was sure about him."**

**"It's not just that," Max muttered and Jess thought she detected a sniffle in there somewhere.**

**"What is it sweetie?" Jess murmured encouragingly. The other woman sighed and Jess waited for her to either continue talking or put off the conversation.**

**"I didn't tell Kendra everything," Max finally informed her. Jess wisely waited. From the sound of it, Max was willing to impart to her, for whatever reason she felt and Jess was patient enough in a situation like this. She'd been through it herself and with other friends in similar situations. It was just best to let Max tell her. "The other woman?"**

**"Uh huh?"**

**"It was Justine."**

**"Wait," Jess gasped. "Your friend Justine? From LA?"**

**"The very same," Max confirmed.**

**"Oh my..."Jess trailed off. So Max hadn't just been dealing with Darren walking all over her, but her best friend as well. She didn't know what to say, so she just listened as Max poured out the story of how she'd gone to Darren's apartment after work, walking in as she normally did, to find her boyfriend and best friend together in an extremely compromising position in his living room. And through the whole story, Jess got the sense that it wasn't Darren who had upset Max, but Justine. The girls had been friends for years and it had hurt Max so badly, she couldn't stand to be around the other girl. She'd left, with Justine chasing after her, trying to explain. But Max was just not in the poper headspace to listen.**

**After she'd talked herself out, Jess made sympathetic noises and offered the same advice that Sam had given her before, when she'd broken up with Leo. Max had chuckled mirthlessly and told Jess that after Sam, they'd broken the mould. There was probably very little chance that Max would ever find a guy half as wonderful as her big brother. Jess could hear the wistful tone in the other woman's voice and once again was thankful that she had Sam.**

**"Speaking of, do you want me to tell Sam?" Jess asked, quietly and seriously. "Or did you want to give it a few days?"**

**"I don't know," Max debated. "If you tell him what happened, he'll just get really angry, which is not a good thing. Maybe just tell him that we broke up and I don't feel like talking about it."**

**"Okay," Jess conceded. "Max, the reason I was calling in the first plaec, was because I was wondering if you wanted to spend your vacation down here again. We really enjoyed having you here last year. And I wanted you to know that you can come see us at any time. You know, if you just need a few days away. You're always welcome."**

**Max smiled at that. Trust Jess to know that she needed a little time to lick her wounds. Sam would have picked up on that too. "You know," she grinned, feeling a little more lighthearted already, "I get two weeks this year, but that's not until the end of August..."**

**"Remember, anytime," Jess chuckled. "And you could always fly down, instead of driving."**

**"That's, yeah, I think that would be nice," Max inhaled contentedly. "Would, um, would this weekend work?"**

**"It'd be perfect," Jess enthused. "Oh, I know Sam's been missing you. I have too."**

**"Me too," Max laughed and then they continued to plan the short trip.**

**"Just one other thing," Jess finally said.**

**"What's that?"**

**"I think you should reconsider letting me tell Sam," Jess decided. "The reason being, if he finds out this weekend, he'll just spend the whole time being pissed off. Why don't you let me tell him now, so that he'll get it out of his system before then."**

**"That actually makes sense," Max grinned. "You know Jess..." she trailed off, blushing and ducking her head, even though the other woman couldn't see her. "You know how I'm... looking for my family?**

**"Yeah," Jess nodded. "Sam's told me."**

**'Well, um," she wondered if she should say it. But Jess was so much more than just Sam's girlfriend to her. "Well, whenever I think of what... my sisters would be like... I um, I always think of you."**

**"Oh Max," Jess was touched, deeply. She grinned and ducked her chin down, having to quickly press her lips together, trying to stem the sudden glimmer of tears in her eyes. "You know, you're like a sister to me too."**

**Once Jess got out of the bath that evening, she found that Sam had finally made it home. She knew he'd be later than usual, since he'd had study group that nght. She wasn't looking forward to telling him about Max and Darren. And for good reason. Once she'd gotten through all the rough details, sitting beside him on their couch, she was completely stunned when he jumped up from his seat and began pacing around the room as he plotted out loud, the most painful tortures he could come up with to do to the bastard that had done this to Max. He stopped once he saw the shock on her face and mumbled an apology. Jess accepted it and Sam pointed out that normally he wouldn't have been so mad. But nobody, nobody hurt his baby sister that way and got away with it. And upon reflection, Jess decided that she was right there with him. But at least it did accomplish what she wanted and that was to get the anger out of the way so that it wouldn't mar Max's visit, which Sam was extremely happy to hear about.**

"Hey Max," John greeted when his daughter finally picked up her cell phone. He'd tried it and the apartment several times that day. No one had answered at home and he'd been getting the message from the cell service provider that Max was unavailable. He hadn't panicked, but he had wondered. "You're finally answering, huh?"

"Oh, sorry Dad," Max huffed. "I just got off my flight to LA."

'What are you doing in LA?" John demanded. He could see from the corner of his eye, Dean's interest perk up.

"I'm visiting Sam and Jess this weekend," she informed him promptly.

"I thought you were going out at the end of the month," John puzzled.

"I still am," Max declared. "I just... needed to get away for a few days."

"What happened?" John growled, on edge from something in the tone of her voice. His daughter sighed and he could see that Dean was sitting up straighter now. There was barely any pretense in his son now that he was really watching the television.

Max bit her lip as she headed over to the luggage carousel where she was supposed to meet Jess and Sam, the three of them having decided to bum around LA for the weekend and mini-vacation their stresses away. She couldn't really tell her father that she wanted to get away from Seattle for a few days because a guy she had ripped off had found out the truth about her heritage as a Manticore alumni and as a result, she'd almost been grabbed up by her archnemesis Lydecker and she felt that it was too hot to stay in the city at this point. Especially since Vogelsang had told her that his office had been bugged. So she went with the other story.

"I found Darren," she almost spat the name, before she pulled back. No need to lay it on too thick. "Cheating on me."

"What?" John roared, startled by what he'd just heard. Even though Dean was trying to pretend that disinterest, even his head snapped around to look at his father. "You actually...?"

"Walked in on him... and Justine," Max confirmed, a slight tinge of bitterness coming to the forefront. Justine had finally convinced Max to listen to her side of the story, of how she'd met Darren online and when she'd decided to surprise Max, she met him first at a little coffeehouse, never knowing that he was Max's boyfriend. But still, even understanding that didn't make the pain go away.

"Justine?" John repeated, ignoring his son's questioning glance. "Protsma?"

"Yeah," Max grunted and then proceeded to tell her father, while leaving out the more explicit details, how it had come about.

"Well, I hope you informed the little bastard that I will kill him," John sneered.

"You know what Dad," Max chuckled weakly, noticing finally Sam's tall figure making it's way through the slight crowd. "He's just not worth it. He actually came running back to me, trying to make it out to be my fault because I didn't _share_ enough with him."

"Share what?" John snorted. "Your past?"

"Exactly," Max confirmed. "Hang on, Sam and Jess just arrived." She lowered the phone to greet her brother and his girlfriend. As he listened to her lighthearted tone, John realized that Max wasn't nearly as devastated by this as he might have thought she would be. He wondered how Dean would feel about it. Even if the boy wasn't still crazy in love with her, they'd be planning a little trip to Seattle, with or without Max's approval, because seriously, you just didn't mess with their family. "Anyways Dad," Max continued making her point. "What I found out from Justine was that Darren met her online and got involved with her only four days after he and I started going out. So I really think we all know who is to blame."

"You keep telling yourself that," John nodded. "Because sweetheart, you did absolutely nothing wrong."

"I know Dad." And for one brief moment, she sounded like his little girl again. John smiled fondly.

"Oh, reminds me why I called," he gasped. "Dean and I just got back from visiting Molly at the hospital."

"Oh you did," Max grew excited. "How is she?"

"Doing good," John grinned. "The surgery went well and her doctors are confidant that they got everything. One day after her surgery and she's already back to her feisty old self."

"Oh I'm so glad," Max whispered. "I wish I could have been there."

"I know," John sighed. "And she missed you too. But, she has a little time, oh for a few hours, if you want to call and talk to her. She's looking forward to hearing from you."

"I'll call as soon as we're on the road," Max promised. "Sam can talk to her too, if they want."

"That'd be fine," John agreed. "I'll let you go now."

"Okay, bye Dad," Max chuckled.

John gave his own farewell and hung up the phone. He turned to his son, reached over the back of the sofa and grabbed the remote. Dean just watched him warily.

"What's up?" he asked.

John clicked off the television and tossed the remote back to his son. "Feel like going to Seattle for a few days?"

**"...no, he's a reporter," Max informed Sam as she set about making herself some dinner. Kendra was out on a 'date' with one of her myriad boytoys.**

**"But I thought you had the private investigator looking into things," Sam puzzled.**

**"Sam," Max sighed, "I gave Vogelsang information four months ago. All he was able to find out was that it was a dead end. This guy just can't do a thing for me, unfortunately."**

**"But a reporter?" Sam muttered again. "Why is he going out of his way to offer you his help?"**

**"Because I'd be working for him on the side," Max explained. "Kind of a quid pro quo deal."**

**"I don't like the sound of that," Sam frowned as he paced around the apartment.**

**"It's no big dealio Sam," Max chuckled. "The only reason I'd be helping, aside from getting information, is because the guy can't exactly do everything for himself."**

**"What does that mean?"**

**"He's paralyzed," Max told him quickly. "From the waist down. He was shot in the back, a few months ago."**

**"So he's not exactly in a safe line of work," Sam pointed out just as quickly.**

**"He was car-jacked Sam," Max told him with an absolutely straight face, her tone even and steady to convince him that no harm would befall her.**

**"Oh," was her brother's short reply. "Well what's his name?"**

**"Logan," she muttered. "Logan Cale."**


	31. Into That Good Night

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to NC-17 for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: Dean/ Max, other canon pairings

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Thirty-one

Into That Good Night

_Max struggled quietly in the night, stumbling around the dingy, cramped motel room, trying desperately to find her clothes. Feeling something soft against her foot, she leaned down and her fingers encountered thin cotton. A shirt, though whether it was hers or not, was hard to tell in the complete dark that pervaded the room. _

_"Max?" a soft, sleepy voice interrupted her search and Max froze. Why, why did he have to wake up now? "Babe? What are you doing?"_

_"N-nothing," she forced herself to answer, her back still to him. "Go back to sleep Dean."_

_"Can't," he grunted and she could hear movement behind her. He was sitting up. Max hurriedly pulled the shirt over her head, realizing only at the last moment that it was indeed his shirt, judging by the lingering smell of his aftershave and the size of it. "It's too cold without you," he murmured by way of explanation. Max inhaled sharply when his hand shot out and caught her around the waist. He pulled her unresisting body towards him, her knees shaking. "What's wrong?" he asked, knowing her so well. Too well sometimes._

_"Nothing's wrong," Max murmured. "I just..." her words faltered as his arm continued to snake it's way around her waist, over her stomach, pulling her down and she was suddenly seated in his lap. His very naked lap. "Dean!"_

_"Max," he grunted, his voice filled with sleepy bemusement that gave way to waking sobriety. "You can tell me sweetheart."_

_"Don't," she whispered harshly, refusing to turn to meet his eyes. She swallowed heavily and gave voice to the thought that had been running through her mind these last few hours. "This was a mistake Dean." And as always, she felt him stiffen beneath her._

_"A mistake?" he repeated slowly. "Why would you say that?" Max was stumped for a moment as his thumb rubbed over her stomach, the material of his shirt riding up and down over her body in time with his movements. But before she could answer, he was talking again. "Because I don't think it was. I'm just wishing it had happened sooner."_

_"What?" Max was stunned by the sudden confession. Her... the man who'd been like a brother to her was..._

_"Maxie," Dean spoke again, his voice deep with emotion, such a rarity that Max stilled even more to hear it, "I've been in love with you for the longest damn time. And... I know I don't... show it very well. And I sure as hell don't ever say it, but I love you," he ended softly and Max felt as if she were melting. At the very least, her body relaxed against his. _

_"Y-you do?" she questioned softly, not quite sure that she really believed this._

_"For a long time now," Dean assured her, nuzzling his cheek against her hair. "I just..."_

_"Oh Dean," she whispered, squirming slightly. His arm loosened reflexively and Max turned herself so that she was sitting sideways against him, turning her head to look up into his face. She had to know, this admission, she had to know the truth or if he was just telling her what he thought she wanted to hear. After all, how many times had she seen him at work, charming the ladies? When he realized that she was just changing her position, his arm tightened again and Max felt secure within his grasp. The corner of his mouth lifted in that familiar pleased smirk, his lips twisting ever so slightly in that charming quirk that Max found herself watching for most days. But while the self-satisfied look plastered on his face was evident in many situations, Max didn't ever think that she'd seen the... glow in his eyes before. Possessive, deep, filled with unnamed until now, emotion. Max felt her lips twitching, the words bubbling up within her. Her lips parted and after a soft exhalation, the words just floated out of her. "I love you too."_

_She had only a second to wonder at why the moment didn't seem as electrically charged as it should have been, declaring their love to each other for the first time. But then she realized as his lips descended to hers, that love had always been part of the deal. Saying it aloud didn't need bells ringing or angelic choirs singing, because it had been evident in every moment of their lives for so very long, had either chosen to examine those moments more closely. _

_And then Dean was reclining, his arms still around her, scooting back until they were both well ensconced on the bed. His hand groped for the bed covers that he'd kicked and shifted aside, pulling them up and over their bodies, his lips still not surrendering hers. Once they were properly and happily covered, he broke the kiss to then rub his nose briefly over hers. "So can I take this to mean you're going to stay put?" The words were light, but Max, who knew him so well, could hear the slight chill of fear behind the words. _

_"Always," she assured him promptly, lifting her face up to him, tilting her head back so that she could see him properly. She'd never tire of looking at him. _

_"Good," he chuckled. "'Cause we already have our hands full chasing down every damn ghost we find on this continent. I'd hate to have to add you to the list."_

_"You'd chase me down," Max giggled at the thought. _

_"To hell and back," Dean assured her grandly and joined in her chuckles. Slowly they began to quiet, Max resting her head against the broad expanse of his chest, her cheek turned, the slow thumping of his heart steady in her ear as it lulled her back to that unnecessary state of somnambulism. _

Max woke slowly, feeling immediately the tears that were on her cheeks. That damn dream again. How many times had that made just in the week alone since Sam had called and told her that he and Dean were out looking for their father? It was getting so bad again, just like it had after she'd first left John and Dean so long ago, that now she was avoiding Sam. She had wanted to call him after his law school interview, but she'd been worried that Sam would be full of anecdote's about what Dean had been up to. And she'd already endured enough torture via Manticore in her life to not want to enter that state willingly. And that was what hearing about Dean, _her brother, she had to remember that,_ would be. A personal, hell-like torture. Sam had called her, about the middle of last week, on her cell phone, but she had avoided the call and he hadn't left her a message. That had continued a few times and finally, he'd called the apartment. Kendra had very nicely, told Sam that Max was busy and she'd get back to him first chance she'd had. But Max hadn't. Sam had simply told Kendra to tell Max that he really wanted to talk to her.

And now here she was, lying in her bed, crying over something useless, pathetic and a thing which she'd never have. Crying so bad she was trembling with it. But that wasn't right. Max realized in an instant that the shaking wasn't right. Lifting her head from her pillow and her left hand in the same moment, she realized that she was hovering on the verge of another seizure. "Damn it," she breathed out softly. She knew as she carefully rolled out of bed that she should have seen this coming. It was probably part of the reason why she was so emotional lately. Stress always was worse for her seizures, her brain and she'd been putting a lot of unnecessary strain on herself by avoiding Sam And thinking about Dean. If she hadn't just come through a bout of heat recently, she could have blamed that too for the dreams she'd been having. But these ones were always more... gentle and nurturing than the sexually yearning drama she went through in the peak of her estrus cycle.

Max slowly made her way to the bathroom, thankful yet again that it was closer to her bedroom than to Kendra's. It took only a moment to find her last bottle of Tryptophan. She winced as the child proof cap gave her a moment's trouble. But then it was off and she was shaking the pills into her hand even as her back thumped against the wall behind her. She slid down to the floor, dropping the now empty pill bottle as her free hand came up to steady the one with the pills. She counted the pills. Only four left. Max could have sworn that there'd been five at last count, but well, even she could make simple mistakes. She swallowed them one at a time, dry and hasty, knowing that she'd have to get more right away. This one felt like it could be a doozey. At least she'd picked up milk the other day. There was always that blessing. Once she was through this bout, she reassured herself, she'd go have a bowl of cereal. Then she could head out for work and stop at the health food store a few blocks away and stock up again. But she wouldn't be able to get as much as she liked, she reminded herself as she wrapped her arms around her up drawn knees, trying to stave off a full blown shake. Payday wasn't for several days yet. And that was all she had time to think about as she was suddenly consumed by her bodies' deficiency.

It took nearly half an hour for the Tryptophan to get through her system, unable to metabolize the homeopathic drug as quickly as she normally did because of the stress on her system. But when she finally felt well enough to pull herself to standing, she stiffly went about her usual post- semi-seizure routine with alacrity. She washed her face and body free of the sweat that had accumulated as she worked through the shakes. A quick pat down with the towel to dry off. Instead of returning the pill bottle to her side of the cabinet, Max swept it into the small trash receptacle located between the toilet and the sink counter. She pushed the mirror fully shut, glanced over her reflection and decided it was good enough. Unlocking the bathroom door, she could hear her roommate up and around and the sound of coffee percolating. Well, she hoped that Kendra was ready to either take some in a thermos, or waste half a pot, because Max was definitely in the mood for something else.

She mumbled a response to her roommate's soft morning greeting and headed straight for the refrigerator. She snagged her usual mug, where Kendra had set it beside the coffee pot and swung open the gleaming white door. Her eyes scanned the shelves quickly and then with a puzzled frown, looked in the inner door. "Kendra?" she asked as she glanced over her shoulder. She didn't see the milk anywhere on any of the counters.

"Yeah Max?" Kendra called back from the living room where she was cradling her steaming mug of coffee in one hand and going over some lesson plans with the other.

"Where's my milk that I bought?" she demanded. Still not seeing it in the frankly, sparse contents of the appliance,. Max pushed the door shut and whirled around to confront her roommate. Kendra gave her full attention to her friend.

"Oh, you didn't see the note," the blond surmised, gesturing to the notepad that was magnetically attached to the freezer door of the appliance. They had set it up so that they could leave each other messages and always have pen and paper with which to write down phone messages for the other. Max turned her head enough to see that Kendra had written in her neat handwriting _'I.O.U. milk, Kendra'_.

"Well that's just great," Max snapped. "I was going to have cereal this morning."

"I'm sorry," Kendra stared at her roomie, puzzled by the tone of her friend's voice. This was not normally something her friend would get upset about. "Jacinta came by last night, before you got home," she explained quickly. "Omar wasn't feeling well and I gave her the milk to help settle his stomach. I really didn't think you'd mind."

"Oh, and of course she just had to ask us," Max harrumphed. "Not like she doesn't have neighbors on both sides of her that she could have asked."

"Max!" Kendra protested quietly, stunned. Normally, her friend adored their neighbor's son, had been very close to his father, since they'd worked together before his sudden illness and subsequent death. It had been Max that had helped Jacinta find an at-home job that allowed her to stay in the apartment and provide for Omar.

"Forget it," Max grunted, turning away from her friend and tearing the note from the pad. She crumpled it up angrily and threw it in the garbage before setting her mug down with a bang. "I have to get ready for work." She turned on her heel and headed back to her room. If she hurried, she could stop somewhere and get a bite to eat, stop at the health food store and not be too late for work. It wasn't like Normal ever expected her to be on time. Hoped for maybe, but the man was quite the realist.

She didn't acknowledge her friend's verbal assessment that she needed to be going as well. She slipped into her bedroom, nudging the door shut and headed to her closet and began going through her clothes. Finding something warm was top priority, since it looked like it could be yet another rainy day in the great city of Seattle. Honestly, she had already pushed Kendra out of her mind, when an indignant shriek pulled her right back.

"Max!" Kendra shouted and then the door to her room was slammed open. Max, reeled and was about to round on her friend for the unwelcome intrusion into her personal sanctum, but the blond was waving a paper before her, her face filled with anger. "What the hell is this? I thought you were taking care of it this month?"

Max, not knowing what Kendra was ranting about now, snagged the paper on one of its passes before her face. The ire about the previous situation faded as she took in the latest problem and her face scrunched up in embarrassment and consternation as she read the official looking notice that had apparently, been tacked to their door. "Oh God Kendra," she moaned. "I'm sorry. I forgot all about it."

"You're sorry?" Kendra echoed with a scoff. "You were supposed to take the rent in five days ago! And now we have an eviction notice?"

"I'll take care of it," Max hastily assured her. "I have our money. I just..."

"Well I hope you have more," Kendra huffed, her hands on her hips. "Because we have until five o'clock today to pay the rent and the late fee or we're out!" Max groaned again. They had never had a problem with rent. The realty company that owned the building had a very gracious five day waiting period. So if their paychecks weren't exactly copacetic, they had some time before things got dire with the living situation. And usually, Max and Kendra took turns delivering the rent money. Not always one after the other, it was usually whomever it was more convenient for. And with Kendra starting another stint as a two week substitute for a teacher that was on medical leave, she hadn't been able to get to the offices in the morning, since she had to be at the school by seven-thirty. So Max had volunteered to take it in. But the first day, she'd been too busy at work and the days after...

"I'll get it," Max promised. "Don't worry about it."

"I wish I didn't have to," Kendra shook her head. "Seriously. What is up with you lately?"

Max took instant umbrage with her friend's pity. "Nothing is up with me," she snapped back. "I just forgot. Okay? I'll get the damn money and I'll take care of it."

"See that you do," Kendra huffed as she turned and headed back out to pick up the books she'd dropped on the kitchen counter. "Because I am completely tapped out." And then she was gone, the front door slammed shut in her wake. Max sighed and looked down at the eviction notice once more, her eyes searching for the amount she'd need to pay in order to get their landlords off their case.

What a perfect start to her already crappy day.

Max was tired and completely worn out by the end of the day. She'd ended up being late, monumentally late for work and when she gave Normal the absolute truth about why she was late, since she'd stopped at the landlord's to pay the rent, she'd been treated to a lecture about responsibilities. She hadn't had time for breakfast and was still feeling shaky through the course of the morning. She'd approached her best friend, Original Cindy, about borrowing some money, a short term loan, just until payday, but the other woman had blown her off. Since apparently, like the rent money, Max had forgotten that she had been supposed to meet OC at Crash the previous evening. But as it was, Cindy was strapped for cash as well.

So then Max had the decision to make about how to get some more ready cash. And at the same time, knew that she needed to make a run to the health food store for more Tryptophan. She had decided on the supplement first, since the seizures were prevalent in her mind. Unfortunately, the store had only one bottle left, but the manager assured her that more stock was incoming. Max had taken another dose and since she was close to home, stashed the bottle in it's usual place in the bathroom before she headed back to work, realizing only a block away, that she had just blown off Cindy again and this time Sketchy and Herbal Thought as well, since they were all going to have lunch together. She had decided quickly that she'd just explain that she was taking care of the rent situation, sure that as friends do, they would forgive her.

In the course of her afternoon deliveries, she'd found a way to get the extra cash she'd needed. She hadn't wanted to fall back on her pickpocketing skills, since the slight shakes she had could have ruined everything. Instead, she'd come across another sneak thief, one she'd seen around town before, counting up the booty from a snatch and dash. Whomever it had been, must have been well to do, judging later by the supple softness of the leather bag. Knocking out the burglar had been easy and Max took the bag and disappeared.

Going through the bag, she found the usual assortment of paraphernalia that women carried with them, as well as a broken silver bracelet in a plastic bag. Rifling through the wallet, Max found eighty dollars and some change. With a thoughtful grin, she stashed the money, threw one of the credit cards in the street and headed off. It was easy enough, as a messenger, to find the woman's home, since it was listed on her driver's license. The woman had come to the door, cordless telephone in hand and had listened with growing relief to the bike messenger's tale. Completely made up of course, about how she'd ducked through an alley and come upon two young men divvying up their loot. Surprised but resourceful, they'd tried to take Max's messenger bag, but she had fought them off, smacking them soundly for their brazenness. They'd ran and Max had found the woman's bag. She offered it back and the woman was not very surprised to find the cash and card gone. But extremely happy that two other cards remained and most of all, her grandmother's bracelet still there. Apparently, she'd just been about to call the credit card companies to inform them of the theft.

The reward she gave Max rounded off the amount the young woman needed to pay off the realty company. Any momentary guilt she might have felt was swept away, because really, Max had returned what seemed to have been the most important thing to the woman and that was the sentimentality of the bracelet, even though it was broken. Noting that it was getting close to the cut-off time, Max had hurried to take care of business. And as such, she was late getting back to Jam Pony, with only Normal and a few others about the building. She was treated to yet another lecture about consideration for other's time and when she tried to explain that she'd been returning a woman's purse, she'd been met with deep skepticism and the order to 'get her feckless behind out the door' so that Normal could finish up and get going as he'd been waiting the last hour to do.

Max, now longing more than anything to just get upstairs to her apartment so that she could sink into a luxurious bubble bath, punched the button for her floor in the elevator, making sure that her bike was completely inside as the doors began to slide close. The ride was swift and silent. When the bell pinged, announcing it's arrival at her floor, Max's eyes popped open again and she wheeled her bike into and down the hallway, making a beeline straight for home. She was starting to feel shaky again. Leaning the bike against the wall, she checked the doorknob and found it open, which meant that Kendra was home. Opening the door, she grabbed the handlebars of her bike and wheeled it inside, just enough that she could lean it against the inside wall and still be able to close the door.

She came around the corner and was surprised to see both Kendra and Original Cindy sitting on the far side of the kitchen counter that divided the kitchen from the living room. "Hey," she greeted quickly, a little guilt rising up at how she'd left Cindy high and dry for lunch. "Sorry I missed lunch," she offered to Cindy and then included Kendra. "I was taking care of the rent." Cindy's face stayed fairly passive, but Kendra was nodding.

"Yeah," she murmured, gesturing to the living room. "They called and let me know to disregard the eviction notice." The two other women exchanged glances and then turned back to Max, their faces calm, yet somehow, expectant.

Max nodded once. "So that's taken care of. Excuse me a sec." She gave them a tight smile and headed for the bathroom. She really needed her pills right then. She pushed the door shut behind herself and reached for the mirrored door on her side of the cabinet. But the space the pill bottle usually occupied was empty. Max's eyes squinted in sudden panic. Where the hell had they gone? She yanked open Kendra's side, wondering if she had messed up. But they weren't there either. A cursory search of the bathroom yielded nothing.

"You're not gonna find them," she heard her roommate's voice ring out authoritatively. She spun around to see her two friends hovering together in the doorway.

"What did you do?" she demanded, her voice tight and harsh. The other two women exchanged those maddening glances again and Max could feel fear and anger welling up.

"Boo," Cindy spoke softly, but firmly, "you got a problem. But me an' sista girl got yo' back."

"What?"

"Because we love you very much," Kendra added with a forced smile.

"What did you do with my pills?" Max demanded, pushing them aside as she moved out to the search the rest of the apartment.

"I wish you could see yourself," Kendra warned softly, her voice mournful as she trailed after Max. "The temper? The mood swings?"

"Not showin' up when you supposed to," Cindy added, although her tone was a bit more acerbic. Kendra threw her an understanding look.

"All the things you keep forgetting about," the blond continued on. "That's just not like you."

"Look," Max snapped, pausing in her search of the cabinets above the counter. "I haven't been feeling well the past few days-!"

"'Cause you're strung out," Cindy snorted, joining Kendra at the kitchen counter once more. "Straight up jonesed."

"Where's my Tryptophan?" Max's voice was a strong mixture of desperation, whining and fear.

"Boo, you can quit coverin'," Cindy sighed. "Kendra looked that stuff up. Trypto-whatever ain't nothin' more than the stuff in milk that makes ya sleepy."

"It's true," Kendra nodded. "If those pills really had been Tryptophan, they wouldn't be making you act this way."

"They don't!" Max shrieked softly as she blew through the apartment, trying to ferret out any possible place that her so-called friends could have hidden her pills. "This is what happens when I don't have them."

"Like you goin' through withdrawal," Cindy nodded sagely. "Girl, look at how badly you shakin' already. But it's aiight. Me an' sista girl got you. We'll get you through this."

"No," Max protested, finally whirling to confront the pair. "You won't. You don't understand. I'll die without that medication. Now, tell me where you put it!"

Cindy was shaking her head sadly. "Down the toilet," she informed her friend clearly, holding Max's eyes so that the girl would make no mistake about how serious she and Kendra were about their desire to help. "Which is where your life is headed if you don't clean up."

Max shook her head ever so slightly. "Tell me you didn't?" she pleaded. She could not handle this right now. How could her friends be so disregarding of what she was telling them. Of course, they thought that her word was little more than a desperate plea of a drug addict, which in a way she was.

"Someday you'll thank us," Kendra tried to smile reassuringly, rubbing a friendly hand over Max's shoulder. Max's eyes fluttered shut for just a moment as her panicked mind ran over her options. Strangling her well meaning friends was somewhere near the top of her list, but deep in her heart, she knew that they were just trying to help. In a second, she had thrown of Kendra's hand and had headed back out the door, taking only enough time to grab her motorcycle. "Max! Max, I don't think you should-!" But whatever Kendra was going to say to her was lost as Max hightailed it back to the store.

"What do you mean they didn't come in?" Max snapped, staring at the cashier at the health food store.

"I'm sorry Max," Tina shrugged, knowing the other girl since she was a regular customer who only ever bought one product. "The truck got held up on the interstate just outside of Richland, because of an accident. And he, the driver said something about not pushing his limit, so he stopped over in Yakima. He'll be here as soon as possible tomorrow."

Max groaned. "I need that stuff."

"I don't get it," Tina sighed. "It's just a food supplement."

"And a homeopathic remedy for certain conditions," Max added tiredly and a dawning look of understanding crested over the cashier's face.

"You know, I could call over to Jenny's store," Tina offered. Max shook her head.

"That's all the way across town," she sighed. "And they close in like, half an hour."

"I bet if I explained, they'd stay open for you, or at least have someone wait for you in the mall," Tina shrugged. "It's worth a try."

"You'd do that for me?" Max grunted in pleased disbelief.

"You're a good customer," Tina grinned as she turned and reached for the telephone on the wall behind her. It only took a few minutes of conversation before she had hung up and turned back to Max. "Okay, Rod has a bottle for you. It's gonna be seventeen ninety-five," and there she grinned slightly, knowing that Max preferred to shop there for convenience and the fact that her supply was about a dollar cheaper per bottle than the competition. Max nodded, not worried about price. "He said to just knock at their service door if the mall is closed. He's going to be a bit, doing clean-up."

"Oh thanks Tina," Max exhaled in relief. "You're an angel."

"Just take care of yourself."

Logan Cale heard some slight noises as he sat at his lowered for convenience, kitchen counter, savoring a glass of red wine and looking over some notes he'd made about some suspicious dealings he'd been made aware of by one of his informants. Glancing out the large windows beyond the dining room at the streaks of lightning and rain that was pelting through the air, he figured that it must be the storm. But then the noises came again and were shortly after, followed by the young lady that he was just starting to get to know, even though they'd been acquainted several months already.

"Max?" he grunted, slightly surprised, even as he reminded himself that he shouldn't be. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"It's raining," she answered shortly, leaning against the door frame that led into the kitchen from the hallway.

"And most people would usually find that a good reason to stay in, rather than go visiting," Logan grinned. But Max shook her head and he could see by a sudden illumination of lightening that she was wet.

"I had to run over to a different store than usual to stock up on my pills," Max explained, her voice sounding as tired as she looked. "The storm broke just as I was leaving the mall."

"Ah," Logan nodded in understanding. His place was probably closer than her apartment to wherever she'd been shopping. She had, he recalled, mentioned before that she didn't like being in the rain unless absolutely necessary. And that motorcycle of hers probably wasn't the best thing to be tooling around on in a storm. "Wine?" he asked, gesturing to the bottle that was waiting on the counter.

"No thanks," Max shook her head. "I'm feelin' kind of punk right now."

"The seizures getting bad?" Logan asked, grabbing his glass of wine and deftly maneuvering his wheelchair so that he could follow her as she wandered into his living room. Knowing what he had discovered of Manticore in general and the X-5 series, of which Max was a member, in specific, Logan knew that she suffered from serotonin deficiency related seizures.

"Starting to," Max informed him as she gingerly seated herself on the sofa. Logan wheeled in closer, but had to stop when the lights suddenly flickered. He glanced up at the ceiling lights suspiciously and then let out a sigh himself when they went out and stayed out. Knowing that he had candles that he kept at the ready on the dining room table, he decided to head that way first, but he misjudged a little where he was at and the wheels on his chair bumped into the chair behind him. "I can get it," Max told him swiftly and through another jagged night sky illumination, he saw her already in the dining room.

"I forgot, you can see in the dark," he chuckled. "Must be nice."

Max waited until she had found and with the matchbook resting between them, lit the candles on the table before she smiled back at her friend slash non-official employer in the he didn't pay her in the usual method sort of way. "Not really. I need at least a little light. But it does come in handy."

"It's too bad there's not a brighter side to those seizures," Logan lamented and was surprised when Max suddenly chuckled.

"Actually maybe there is," she commented, seemingly more to herself than to him.

"And what would that be?" Logan prompted as he wheeled himself over to the credenza and lit the candles that resided on the top counter.

"Hmm?" Max mumbled. "Oh. Well, I figured out pretty fast who my good friends are."

"Oh?" Logan twisted in his seat to glance at her. "How did that come about?"

"Well," Max shrugged one shoulder. "Cindy and Kendra decided to um... stage an intervention, because, well..."

"They mistook you for an addict?" Logan connected the dots fairly quickly, his voice laced with bemusement. Max nodded resignedly.

"I mean, that's a good sign, right?" she queried as she moved back to the sofa. "That they cared enough...?"

"Oh, definitely a good sign,' Logan jerked a little, pulling himself out of his sudden musings. "I just wonder that you haven't mentioned this problem to them. I mean, they are your good friends, right?"

Max glanced away, suddenly feeling defensive. Before she could frame any sort of response to that, she heard her cell phone ringing. Pulling her slightly wet jean jacket out and away from her body, her hand delved into the inner pocket and retrieved said phone. She muffled a groan when she saw that it was, yet again, Sam calling.

"Are you going to answer that?" Logan asked, his tone light, but puzzled. Max could hear that clearly. She shook her head slightly.

"It's just my brother," she sighed and blinked in surprise when Logan leaned forward.

"Your brother?" he questioned sharply and Max realized the slip of her tongue.

"Foster brother," she amended quickly. "Callin' to check in with me."

"Ah," Logan nodded as the phone rang again. "I'll give you some privacy," he informed her politely. "Got to go call the power company and find out what's up." He gave her a tight smile as he wheeled his chair around and headed out of the room. He had another phone in the kitchen and since it wasn't cordless, could use it to call the power company and find out when power could be restored to the building. Although he hated to do so, since the company was probably being inundated with calls like this from outraged customers.

Max watched Logan leaving the room with some slight trepidation. She didn't particularly want to answer this call. But she knew that she, who made such a big deal out of her family to this man, would look extremely suspicious if she didn't answer this call. And she could have made up a story about them having a fight, but she really didn't want to get into the intricacies of the Winchester's with Logan. Because in all honesty, Logan was damn near as curious as that clan was.

As she sank back down to the sofa, Max answered her phone, noticing that the shaking in her hand was back. "Hello?"

Sam perched on the edge of the bed furthest away from the door of the motel room that he and Dean had secured. He stared blankly at the wall as he listened to the seemingly endless ringing of his cell phone as he attempted yet again to call his sister. By this point, the fifth call he'd tried to make, he was beginning to suspect that she was avoiding him for some reason. And honestly, he couldn't figure it out. Was it something to do with that kid Eric that she had said nothing had happened with? Was she embarrassed about that situation? He would have thought that she would have called him the Monday after... But she hadn't called at all. No calls, no messages, nothing to acknowledge him in any way. She even had Kendra covering for her.

But then, finally, someone picked up. There was a little pause, a hesitation and Sam wondered if it was somebody else that had Max's phone. But it was her voice that finally answered. "Hello?"

"Max?" he whispered softly and suddenly, he wondered if he could do this. And thankfully, a stream of apologetic rambling spewed forth from his younger sibling, because the words he had to say were lodged in his throat, strangling him.

"Hey Sam," she got out in a rush. "Sorry I haven't called you back. Things have been kind of hectic around here lately. I mean, I would have called you back and asked about your interview. But I figured that you'd let me know if it was bad news. 'Cause I mean really, you're such a shoo-in for-!"

"Max?" Sam repeated her name a little louder this time and perhaps there was something in his voice that warned her for she instantly stopped.

"What happened?" she asked in a tiny, tremulous voice. Sam swallowed heavily, pointedly ignoring Dean carefully making his presence known. His brother had just gotten back from whatever dining establishment he'd chosen, with their late night meal. Fighting that Wendigo had taken a lot out of them. And surprisingly, Dean was keeping whatever might have been occurring in that warped brain of his to himself, pretending that he was completely unaware of what Sam was doing. What he had to say. And in a way, Sam was strangely grateful for it.

Dean hadn't blown off Jess' death. Because Sam cared about her, Dean had cared, even for just the few minutes that they had met. Not in the same way of course. But Dean had been surprisingly mature in his reaction and support of Sam's grief and it took the younger man a little by surprise. Like right now. Dean obviously knew that Sam could only handle one emotionally charged, non-supernatural based, confrontation at a time. So Dean was keeping his nose out of it until Sam was able to work through what he needed to work through with Max. Sam realized then that Max was waiting.

"It's bad news," he spoke heavily, feeling literally, like a weight was pressing down on his chest, making it hard for him to breath.

"Dad?"

Sam inhaled slightly. He should have known that was coming, that since they'd last talked, that Dad would be her first concern. And he couldn't begrudge her that worry, since what had happened had been... unexpected. "No," he answered, slightly more sharp than he'd intended to. "Dad's fine. Or at least we assume he is. We haven't found him yet."

"We?" Of course she'd picked up on that.

"Dean and I," Sam informed her. He glanced over his shoulder at where his brother was apparently, calmly eating his dinner

"Oh, you're..."

"Um yeah," Sam sighed. "About that... Max..." Sam was at a loss for actual words. He knew what he needed to say, he just didn't know if the words would actually come out. Taking a deep fortifying breath, he braced himself and got the words, the dreadful hated words out. "Jess is... gone. There was a... fire and we couldn't get her out in time and-!"

"What!" The word exploded in his ear and Sam winced. But before he could respond there was a thump, he thought she'd dropped the phone. But then there was a crash and Sam pressed the phone closer to his ear.

"Max?" He was startled to hear her name echoed by another male. He threw another glance over his shoulder, but it wasn't his brother. Dean was watching him, his eyes dark and thoughtful, hand in mid-air holding the burger that he'd bought for himself. Sam's shoulder's hunched a little as he wondered what the hell had happened. "Max?" his voice was softer this time, full of concern. But when the answer came, it wasn't what he expected.

"Hello?" it was the male's voice, he was sure, that he'd heard echoing concern for his sister.

"Who is this?" he demanded tiredly. He really wasn't up for meet and greet with another of Max's boyfriend's.

"This is Logan Cale," the voice answered promptly. "You're Max's brother?"

"Yeah, Sam," he introduced himself abruptly. He remembered that Max had mentioned this Logan guy a couple times and then Eric had as well, last week.

"Okay Sam," Logan's voice was calm, cultured and Sam had the ridiculous feeling that it carried that soothing weight that meant that he was covering for something bad going on. "Can you hang on for a minute?"

"Yeah," Sam grunted. "What's going on?" He had to wait briefly for an answer, but it came after a muffled conversation from the other end.

"Max is going through a rough patch with her seizures right now," Logan explained and Sam felt something clench around his heart. "I just need to get her pills."

So many thoughts ran through Sam's mind as he distractedly agreed. Of course, he needed to keep quiet and let this guy help his sister, even as he wanted to demand some answers. Like, why did this guy that Max had been casually working for know such personal things about his sister? Was there more to their relationship than Max had let on? How bad were the seizures? Sam knew one thing for sure though. If he had known that this was happening right now, he wouldn't have told her just yet about Jess. Stress was definitely one thing that Max couldn't cope with when she was battling these damn things. Sam's head hung slightly and he ran his free hand through his hair, feeling slightly like an ass, though he wasn't exactly clear why that was.

A disgruntled noise from behind him brought him around and Sam half-turned on the bed to see Dean gesturing with his food, obviously wanting to know what was going on. Sam lowered the phone slightly and furrowed his eyebrow's together. "Seizure," he answered his brother's unspoken query succinctly. He wasn't surprised by how quickly Dean's face darkened. Whether it was threat of the supernatural or anything else, their family could always count on Dean to be ready to fight.

"Bad?" Dean asked as calmly as he could, though his mind was screaming at him to try and take control of an uncontrollable situation.

"Don't know," Sam grunted and passed his hand over his face again. "I shouldn't have told her," he sighed, glancing away. "Not when she's like this."

"You didn't know," Dean confirmed quietly. They'd all been through this nerve wracking time with Max and despite learning to remain calm and collected in the face of crisis, Dean knew that none of them really handled it well. It was different when they were on a hunt. They were actively seeking out things that were dangerous. But these seizures were a threat that stalked Max constantly. No one knew for sure when and where they would strike. Sam looked as if he were about to say something else, but a muffled curse from the other end of the phone caught his attention immediately.

"What?" he demanded sharply, his concern entirely focused on his little sister now.

"It's okay," Logan grunted into the phone. "Sorry. I was just trying to reach a blanket and I dropped it."

"Oh," Sam sighed in relief. "A blanket... for..."

"For Max," Logan confirmed. "There's a storm raging outside," he explained further. "The power is out and she's cold." Sam nodded, accepting that.

"So..." he pondered the few things he knew about this man that Max had told him. It really wasn't much. How did you make small talk with remote strangers? Sam really wasn't sure about the protocol here. "Uh, were you guys working tonight, or something?"

"Actually I was," Logan sounded surprised. Perhaps Max hadn't shared certain things with Logan, which would make sense. The whole family was very close-mouthed around strangers and casual acquaintances. "Max got caught out in the rain on her motorcycle and she was closer to here than home."

Sam processed that rapidly with the other information that he'd garnered. "Smart," he murmured. "I'm glad she had the sense to stop rather than try and make it home."

Logan, on the other end of the phone, smiled as he wheeled himself awkwardly back to the living room, blanket in his lap. It wasn't easy to carry on a conversation while you needed both hands to maneuver a wheelchair. "Especially in her condition." He heard Sam's agreement.

"How bad is she right now?" Sam asked and he could see Dean out of the corner of his eye nodding at his line of questioning. "What are you doing for her?"

Again Logan smiled. He'd dated enough in the past, some girls with protective family, that he recognized the concerned older brother stance. It didn't bother him though, as he was probably older than Max's brother by a few years at least. "She's a little shaky. I guess she has been most of the day, from what I understand. She's got her Tryptophan," he recited back easily. "She's just taken four. And now she has the blanket, hang on." Logan dropped the phone back down to his lap as he helped Max arrange the blanket over her. She was staring vacantly at some spot in front of her and Logan was sure that she wasn't really focusing on anything specific. He pulled the phone back up as he ran one hand over Max's brow, checking her temperature, which seemed a little high to him. Perhaps some liquid would help. "Max, do you want some milk?" Her eyes slowly focused and raised to meet his and Logan was startled by the anguish that she wasn't quick enough to mask. It hadn't been there before, but Logan was tactful enough to say nothing. Whatever it was, was her business and he wouldn't ask unless she offered to share. But quickly enough the mask of the beautiful but remote girl was back in place, although she couldn't quite clear her eyes. She nodded slowly and Logan tried to give her a reassuring smile.

Tilting his head again to keep her cell phone between his head and his shoulder, Logan wheeled himself back, heading for the kitchen. "So now I'm going to get her some milk," he announced, addressing Sam once more. "I mean, I won't be able to heat it up, since the power is out. But any port in a storm, right?" he asked lightly.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, sounding just as shaky as his sister did. "Look, thanks. For helping Max, I mean."

"It's not a problem Sam," Logan replied simply. "There's no way that I was just going to let her suffer."

"Right," Sam agreed, his shoulders drooping again. "Of course it didn't help that I dropped my stuff on her." His eyes widened and he clamped his mouth shut as he realized what he'd said. Damn. There was something about this guy's voice that was comforting. He was probably one of those people that was a great listener. Well, he had to be. He was a reporter, wasn't he?

"I'm sure that whatever it was," Logan began calmly and Sam knew his suspicions about this guys vocal resonance was correct. "You didn't know that Max was ill right this second. It's no one's fault," he finished, unknowingly echoing Dean's sentiments from just minutes before.

"Okay," Sam nodded absently. "Look, Logan, uh can you just... if Max gets worse..." The other man simply waited to hear what Sam was going to suggest, rather than finish the thought himself. Sam glanced at Dean, his brother unconsciously, or perhaps not, leaning towards him, still intent on the family drama. "Can you get her to a hospital or something. I mean, I know she'll be stubborn about it and I doubt there's much they can do. But-!" His words were cut off by a bark of laughter and then,

"Sorry," Logan chuckled. "Stubborn is an understatement about your sister." A small grin graced Sam's face for a moment before the other man continued. "Besides, she could kick my ass blindfolded before I... ended up in my chair. I really doubt I could force her now if she didn't want to." Sam bit his lip as he recalled Max had told him that Logan was a paraplegic. "Although," the other man continued, "I suppose I could use her guilt as leverage."

Sam's antenna shot straight up at that. "Her guilt?" he repeated suspiciously. What the hell was this guy talking about? But Logan wasn't answering and it seemed to Sam that there was another muffled conversation taking place.

Logan, who had just delivered Max's milk to her, was conversing with Sam and poking some gentle fun at Max all the while trying to assure everyone concerned that things would be handled to the best of he, Logan's ability. But at those last two words, he suddenly felt like he was caught in a crossfire again. And Logan most definitely didn't like the sensation.

Max had hissed and flapped one hand at Logan, gesturing to the cell phone. Quickly, he'd put one hand over the receiver and leaned forward, to hear what she had to say. "They don't know about me," she whispered quickly to him. He was about to ask for more specific information. There were a lot of things she could have meant, although he had a pretty good idea that she was talking about her altered genetics and early upbringing. "They don't know I'm g-genetically revved up," her words were even quieter now. Logan nodded once. Okay, he got that and he could work with that. But before he could remove his hand though her eyes darkened again. "And I told S-sam that you were carjacked and shot."

"Which isn't that far from the truth," Logan grunted. The car that he'd been traveling in that fateful day had been attacked. She obviously just hadn't mentioned that the attackers had been trying to get at his informant, and he'd just been in the way, trying to protect them. "But he knows we're working together?"

Max nodded. "He just thinks that I do s-some research and l-legwork for you," she confirmed, her voice still revealing the effects of her faulty brain chemistry as she stumbled slightly in her words.

"Which, again, sort of the truth," Logan smiled fondly down at this dark, enigmatic girl before him. He noticed right away that she hadn't denied what he'd said about her guilt. It was something he'd never mentioned to her, how close to consciousness he'd been, when she had come to him in the hospital after he'd been shot. He'd heard her words, though they'd hovered in his unconscious for a long time. It wasn't until he'd been hovering on the verge of sleep one night after an appointment with his doctor, and had been thinking back to the incident, that the words surfaced again. Taken in one context, they hadn't meant much other than a conversation filler. Especially if Max thought he was completely unconscious. But taken as Logan had figured, to be her way of talking through something that bothered her, as some people did when they thought no one could catch them talking to themselves, it made perfect sense.

She felt guilty about his shooting. About not agreeing to be there to protect Lauren and her daughter Sophy. For not keeping him from being shot. If she didn't feel guilty, why go to the trouble of telling an unconscious man that she didn't feel guilty? Not one little bit guilty for what had transpired. And then why had she turned around and done everything in her considerable power to complete the mission. To save Sophie? Sure, but Logan had sensed back then, even as he was sensing now, that there was more to the story. He was almost ready to return to his conversation with Sam, but he just wanted to make sure.

"Anything else I should know?" he asked easily, gesturing with the phone between both hands. It was extremely slight, the quick shift in her eyes, but Logan was sure that there was something. "Max? What is it?" He wasn't startled by the lone tear that slowly leaked from her eye. He could certainly empathize with the emotional strain that battling a faulty body put on one's mind and emotions.

"Nothing," Max denied hurriedly, tiredly swiping the offending moisture away. She glanced up over the couch, out the window where both could plainly see the lightening streaking through the sky. It took her a moment, but then she seemed to have come to a decision. "Sam's girlfriend died. In a fire. That's what he called to tell me."

"Oh my God Max," Logan sighed heavily. "That's horrible. Were you close to her?"

Max let out a weak, sickened chuckle. "Yeah Logan. She was like a sis-sister to me." With that admission, tears welled up in her eyes again and she quickly twisted her head away, not wanting this man to see the weakness in her. The weakness of emotion that she had always been trained was an enemy.

Logan let her. He sat back in his wheelchair. Despite their short, stunted, more business than anything else relationship, he understood the feminine cues to back the hell off. Turning himself away and wheeling back into the kitchen, he took a deep breath before he addressed her brother again. "Sam?"

"Yeah?" Sam barked with relief, worried that in the few minutes since Logan had quit speaking to him, something was happening. Something bad.

"Sorry about that," Logan replied easily. "I was just giving Max a hand. The couch isn't all that comfortable."

"Oh, okay," Sam sighed. "She's...?"

"I think she'll be okay," Logan pronounced.

"Good," Sam sniffled, trying not to let the worry in his mind flood everything. "That's good." He gave Dean a tired nod to indicate that everything was as well as could be hoped for in the situation. Dean slumped back in his chair. "But um," he continued, wondering how to pick up the previous thread of conversation, because he was still intrigued by what the man had meant. "You were saying something about Max feeling guilty?"

"Oh that," Logan chuckled lightly. "Yeah. Max and I were supposed to meet up that day. But she had to call and cancel," he lied easily. "So I was heading out to do some work when I was carjacked. I guess Max just feels guilty because if she hadn't canceled, I wouldn't have been at that place, at that time and I'd still have functional use of my legs."

Sam blinked slowly, assimilating that tidbit of information. Yeah, he could see that. He did the same thing to himself. If he had just ignored Dean when he had come, Jess would have been okay. If he'd insisted on not stopping to eat on the way home as Dean wanted to do, Jess would have been okay. If he'd not lingered to talk to Dean at the car, Jess...

"Well anyway Sam," Logan continued. "Max's cell battery is getting low," he informed the other man. "And with no way to charge it right now..." he trailed off and Sam immediately got the point.

"Yeah, yeah," Sam replied hurriedly, clearing his throat, or at least attempting to do so to get past the lump that was there from thinking again, still of Jessica. "Just, have Max call me when she's feeling better."

"Will do," Logan assured him quickly. But there was something that still weighed heavily on the older man and for the briefest of moments, he wondered if he should say something. Common manners were helpful, that yes, he should acknowledge Sam's girlfriend's death, since Max had taken the pains to point it out. But he was still such a stranger. Pushing the questions to the back of his mind, Logan inhaled slightly. "And Sam?"

"Yeah?" Sam waited, wondering what else the man might say. As relaxed as he could be under the circumstances, Logan's next words hit him like a freight train right to the chest.

"Max told me and I'm... very sorry for your loss," Logan spoke softly, reverently, empathetic to some degree over what Sam had to be suffering.

Sam's mouth gaped slightly. What could he say to that? Thank the man for acknowledging the most devastating event in his life that he could remember? Did he tell him to shut the hell up? To not mention Jess to him when Logan had no idea... But no, it wasn't as if the man were deliberately trying to hurt him. Cale had made a connection with his sister. She was hurting too. Jess had been her friend. It was slightly reassuring in its own way, that Logan had revealed himself not to be as aloof as Sam had imagined him to be for a business acquaintance to Max. That he was helping her through her seizures and understood this moment of loss and how adrift Sam felt. His mouth snapped shut as he realized that Logan was waiting. "Yeah," he whispered huskily and then more quickly, "goodbye." He hung up before Logan could say anything else and dropped the phone to the bed, not caring where it fell. He perched at the edge of the bed, for how long he didn't know. But finally, his brother clearing his throat brought his attention back to the present.

"Sam? You okay?" Dean's voice was steady, to Sam's ear. But then, barely anything ever seemed to rattle Dean externally. It was only to those that knew him as well as the family did, which was pretty much no one else on this earth, who could discern the fear and worry in the undertones of his body language. Sam chanced a peek over his shoulder. Dean really was worried. The burger and fries sat untouched before him and even though his brother was leaning back in his seat, Sam could discern, just barely, one foot jiggling nervously on the floor. He threw his brother a slightly contemptuous look, daring Dean to ask him that again. How the hell could he be okay? "If you're done on the phone," Dean continued on calmly, not acknowledging his brother's menacing glare. Which pretty much meant that he was amenable to skimming over the touchy feely moment since Sam certainly wasn't up to sharing, but he would have, with the expected protest if Sam really needed it. "You should come eat," Dean directed, gesturing to the remaining bag that held the fast food that had grown lukewarm while Sam conversed with Max and Logan.

Sam inhaled deeply again, rubbing his left hand over his face as he turned forward once more. "Yeah," he sighed, leaning forward and pushing himself up off the bed. "I guess." It was a crapshoot these days, remembering to eat. Usually it was only Dean waving food underneath his nose that got him eating. It just wasn't important to him right then. But just to be on the safe side, should Dean continue pressing at subjects better left buried, Sam snagged his laptop and brought it to the rickety little motel room table. He busied himself setting it up and then pulled his food out. Hot or cold it didn't matter. It was all ashes in his mouth anyway.

"Looking for another job?" Dean queried easily, his mouth full of a bunch of fries. He scooped up the soda he'd gotten himself and slurped loudly at it. It was an easy way of not letting Sam slip into a semi-comatose state as he occassionally did. Dean suppressed the grin threatening to break over his face at the expected annoyed glare that Sam shot him. Sam shook his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he typed quickly, hit the 'Enter' key and then sat back to wait for the information it would yield. Giving in to his brother's non-verbal urging, he picked up his sandwich and began to eat. It took very little time and Sam skimmed over the information presented to him.

"Just doing a little googling," he replied absently.

"Dude, kinky!" Dean chuckled, lifting his cup and straw to his mouth again.

"Dean," Sam snorted in protest of his brother's as usual, one track mind. "It's a search engine."

"I know," Dean returned smugly, enjoying how Sam squirmed a moment as they fell back into their usual and oh so familiar patterns of behavior. He knew instinctively that this was what Sam needed right now. And if Dean had to play this part to help Sam move forward at least a little, it was no skin off his nose. "Who you lookin' at?"

Sam didn't answer for a moment as he continued to peruse several links. "Logan Cale," he finally answered. Dean's eyebrows shot up as he quickly made the connection.

"The guy you were just talking to?" he demanded. He couldn't help the tiny bit of well, jealousy that bit through the next words. "Max's friend?"

"More like her on the side employer," Sam corrected, his eyes still glued to the screen. Surprisingly, given Dean's drive to protect his family, Sam had found him still extremely reticent to discuss Max or anything to do with her since they'd been on the road together. But Sam knew, since Max had told him herself, that she had regularly spoken with their father before his disappearance. Was John going that far into not-sharing mode that he didn't even tell Dean what was going on in their sister's life? "You did know about that, right?" Sam clarified, sparing his brother a glance and surprisingly, catching the complete mystification that his elder brother swiftly hid.

"The reporter," Dean countered. "Right, right. Yeah, she mentioned that," he nodded before shoving the burger back in his mouth and Sam knew that if pressed, Dean would pretend at having some manners and use his full mouth as an excuse not to talk. Not like it bothered him at any other time, just when Dean didn't want to talk about something. Then, any trick in the book was acceptable.

Wearily Sam turned his attention back to the computer, reading over what he had begun. "Huh," he grunted softly. "Gotta love p.b.c's."

"Are those like p.b. & j.'s?" Dean countered quickly and even as soon as Sam had said it, he was expecting the comparison from Dean, the younger Winchester still smiled.

"Public background checks," he corrected. He turned his laptop slightly so that Dean could see the plethora of information that was coming up on this guy. It was to be expected, since Cale had been a reporter, still was and had been in the public eye with his articles. Sam, used to running this kind of information check, quickly scanned the pertinent information provided. Height, six foot two inches, weight, 180.

"Huh," he murmured to himself again.

"What?" Dean demanded, his tone slightly annoyed as it usually was when Sam muttered to himself.

"Oh," Sam recollected himself. "Says here he's divorced." Sam took a moment to open another screen with more information. "Interesting."

"What's so interesting about divorce?" Dean snorted. "Unless there was a really juicy scandal." He waggled his eyebrows in his brother's direction, but Sam was now effectively ignoring his brother in favor of reading. Sam shook his head, though Dean was unsure if it was in response to his comment or what he was reading. "Sam?"

"Hmm?" Sam grunted and then turned back to his brother. "Oh. No, interesting in that he dropped off the radar several years ago. Hang on." Sam clicked on several more pages, leaning forward as what he was reading captured and drew him in once more. It took him several minutes and so intent was he that even Dean's impatient finger tapping didn't annoy as it usually did. When Sam finally leaned back and reached for his burger, Dean broke down and asked.

"So? What'cha find out?"

Sam shook his head as he quickly chewed and then swallowed. "Got a well to do background. Parents died when he was fairly young. College, a couple engagements, marriage. He was supported by the family business, though he didn't work there very long. Huh. Didn't know that."

Dean rolled his eyes as Sam fell silent again. It was extremely annoying and sometimes felt like he was pulling teeth when Sam was playing the silent research game. "What?"

"You know those hover drones?" Sam segued and caught Dean's blank look. He gave a small huff. "The flying cameras?" Dean still looked blank. "The ones they've been testing for the last few years," he continued, his voice rising slightly in disbelief that his brother could have possibly missed these things. "Jeeze Dean! Don't you ever read the paper? Watch the news?"

"Just for the obits," Dean shot back and Sam shook his head. "But yes, I know what you're talkin' about."

"All right," Sam's jaw clenched at his brother's obvious baiting. "Well, Cale Industries, Logan's families business, is the one that produce the microchip that enables the hover drones to fly. I didn't know that."

"And it's important why?" Dean smirked, resting one fist on his thigh as he leaned on his other arm on the table.

"It's not," Sam protested. "I was just surprised, I guess. Anyway," he continued in a hurry before Dean could interrupt. "After his divorce from Valerie Cale, he turned to journalism, his major in college. Looks like he was working closely with his mentor, Nathan Herrero." Sam paused, leaning back in his chair, his fingers hovering over the fries that Dean had slid closer to his elbow.

"What?" his brother demanded at this latest pause. Sam shook his head.

"The name's familiar," Sam grunted. His eyes were continuing to scan different pages of information. He found and clicked on a link to Herrero and the moment he started reading the old article, the information fell into place. "Ah, that's right."

"What is?" Dean asked, his jaw clenching minutely with the frustration he always felt whenever Sam made pronouncements that he didn't immediately explain. Sam turned his laptop so that Dean could see it as well and then picked up his food.

"Herrero was big on social and political issues," Sam explained even as Dean glanced over the information, sort of filling in the background for his brother, since he knew that Dean wouldn't have cared one whit about the guy unless he was haunting or being haunted. "He started delving into the issue of police corruption. Next thing you know, he disappears."

"And this matters why?" Dean sighed.

"There were a lot of rumors going around about it," Sam answered after having swallowed his mouthful. "It was a hot topic in my poli-sci class. He was presumed dead by the police, but people wondered which faction was behind the guys disappearance."

"And again?" Dean muttered, rubbing at one temple with his forefinger. Sam smirked that Dean hadn't made the connection yet. But there, suddenly something lit up in Dean's eyes. "Wait? Was this about the time that Cale dropped out of sight too?" Ah, he remembered that. Sam nodded.

"Published a few more articles," Sam agreed, "and then poof, it was like he didn't exist anymore."

"So what," Dean mused, staring at the screen even as he absentmindedly ate his food, mirroring his brother's action. "He was involved with his mentor's disappearance? Or he took a page from the kill or be killed survival guide and disappeared before he went the way of the dodo?"

"Probably more likely the second, I'd say," Sam added sagely. He shook his head. "All the money in the world can't save you from a bullet to the brain."

"But he's resurfaced now," Dean muttered, not bothering to articulate the fact that they only knew this because Max was involved in some way with the guy. And if thinking about that wasn't the damnedest kick to Dean's gut. He blinked in surprise as the computer beeped at him. "What's that? I didn't do anything."

Sam chuckled and pulled the computer back so that it was facing him. "No, just means the page I wanted is done downloading. There's a video clip that was linked to the background check. A hover drone video, looks like it."

"Man, those things are crap," Dean opined, leaning back in his chair. "A complete waste of money. Once the crooks figure them out it's pretty damn easy to get around them." Sam smirked at that pronouncement.

"Max said pretty much the same thing," Sam noted absently. "When they first came out."

"Smart girl," his brother retorted dryly.

"Of course, maybe she changed her mind when she saw that footage of what she thought was Seth," Sam commented quietly. He did notice his brother lean forward again as he read the corresponding article about the hover drone footage. Just basic information about when it was recorded and where.

"She hasn't found anything else out about him, has she?" Dean asked softly and Sam smiled internally at his brother's typical concern. Instead of answering, he just shook his head as the video began to play.

Sam stared in surprise at the screen, the obviously grainy quality of the film doing nothing to retard the recognition process. Right before him, was some sort of organized hit going down in broad daylight in the streets of Seattle. A car was rammed, blocked at the front end and there was an honest to God shootout happening. Sam knew he was gaping slightly, but he was just that dumbfounded. Why hadn't he heard about this? This was no gang warfare, commonplace in the larger cities. This was... oh there, a woman, by the looks of it had gotten away. Sam could hear a child screaming somewhere in the compilation and again Dean was scooting over to get a closer look. Together they watched as several armed men shot at the trapped vehicle until finally, another man emerged, only to turn back and pull a small girl from the car. The man tried to run, tried to protect the kid, but within three steps, he was down. And their attackers had converged, wrenching the child from him.

Sam gasped as the camera footage zoomed in on the guy that had just been shot. "Damn," he breathed out shakily, before one of the attackers turned, noticed the hover drone and fired. There was static for a few seconds after that and the video file was done.

"Was that...?" Dean trailed off as Sam was already nodding.

"Logan Cale," the taller man confirmed. Without realizing it, his finger had reached for the touch pad again and had started the video over. They let it play, silence between them. Both of them soaking up any and all details they could garner. When once more the file was finished, Sam pushed the laptop away and turned back to his brother. "She lied to me." There was no need to specify what _she_ Sam was referring to. His eyes held a beseeching note that Dean was near captivated by. He hadn't seen that... that mass of confusion and the need to understand that only Sam could convey, not since Sam was still a kid. "Why...?"

Dean, uncomfortable that the onus was placed on him to help figure out the motives of the one woman in all this earth that was a complete enigma to him anymore, gave out a low snort. "I don't know Sammy," he replied helplessly even as a thought occurred to him. "You know, maybe she didn't. Maybe this Logan character didn't tell her the truth about what went on. You know, she might have missed the news report-!"

But Sam was shaking his head. "Logan said the same thing, to me," he informed his brother. "He said straight out that he had gone out for something work related and was carjacked." He pursed his lips momentarily. "And that was right after they were talking, muffling the phone so I couldn't hear."

Dean shrugged one shoulder. "Don't look at me. I don't know what goes through her head anymore. Closest guess I can make is that she probably didn't want us, you, to worry about her." Probably didn't want to risk big brothers riding onto the scene and making her think about past... mistakes! Dean glanced away from his brother, the ache in his chest, the one he'd thought buried and drowned in cheap beer, raising its ugly head once more.

"Probably," Sam agreed slowly. And then, speaking more to himself than his brother, he let out a long breath and wondered, "what the hell has she gotten herself into?"


	32. Close Enough To Touch

]Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to NC-17 for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Time line/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural time line. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: Dean/ Max, other canon pairings

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Thirty-two

Close Enough To Touch

"Your parents must have been terrorists," Sketch breathed out before her, stinging Max with a slightly repugnant smell that told her that Sketchy had been indulging in something to calm his nerves as he waited for them, meaning her and Original Cindy, to save his ass, yet again. He was holding the money that Cindy had handed over, fanned before his face, trembling with relief and who knew what else. "'Cause you guys are the bomb!" He finished the cheesy line with an even cheesier expression of hopefulness marring his kicked puppy dog looks.

Max groaned internally, even as she tried to tamp down the irritation rising within her. Here they had just put themselves on the line in the name of friendship and a certain amount of life or death desperation for him and yet, Sketch was still trying to pull something on them. Flattery in hopes of getting some, perhaps? Well she had had enough. Her hand shot up faster than either of the others could blink to hold him firmly still so that he would not miss the importance of what she was saying.

"Next time you need a favor and call a friend?" she demanded icily as Sketch's eyes widened. He'd been manhandled by her before and some part of Max recognized that Sketch actually got off a little on it. After all, Lydia and the nails... ew! "Just remember one thing. You're out of lifelines sweetheart!"

She heard Cindy's grunt of approval and agreement. They'd both had enough this evening. Max let go of where her fingers had been slightly digging into his cheeks and gave him a light slap. Lighter than she wanted to because he was still their friend and she didn't want to knock him out, only to have someone steal the money she had just painstakingly hustled and have to go through this all over again.

"Let's go," she muttered, moving away from the still shaking man.

Max didn't bother to check if Cindy was following after her. But after a few steps, she felt more than saw her friend pause and she did as well, steeling herself against any kindness Original may have decided on. But the woman simply wanted to show her approval at Max's behavior. With a slight grin on her face, Max bumped fists with her girl before the pair moved on. A show of female solidarity before the unenlightened and probably never to be enlightened male.

They'd made it to the end of the block that they were to meet Sketch on before Cindy took up the conversation again. Muttering on about how that fool would be better off to try and do something useful with his life rather than coming up with crazy schemes. And while Max agreed, she could also see how desperation and fear could concoct some crazy plans. After all, she'd been in that position before, hunting the supernatural, evading Manticore. Normally, she liked a well thought out plan, but when you had to fly by the seat of your pants, cohesion sometimes went out the window. And speaking of pants, the tight little shorts she was wearing had been starting to ride uncomfortably and longing thoughts of home, where her comfortable clothes were, began to occupy her mind.

"You can't blame him you know," she offered to her friend. "Like you said, males? Not always the brightest of the species."

"And certainly not worth the time and effort," Original added smugly.

"But a necessary evil," Max giggled. "If we want to perpetuate the species."

"Suga," Original sighed contentedly, knowing that she would never fully bring Max around to her way of thinking, as she knew that just wasn't how her girl was built, "I thank the person who invented artificial insemination every night I think on this." As intended, that got another chuckle out of her girl. "If'n I ever decide to go that way."

"You with a kid?" Max paused slightly. There was an interesting thought. Beside her, her friend shrugged.

"As much as I'd like it to happen, Original ain't gonna be a young ingénue foreva," she shrugged. It wasn't like she thought on it a lot at this point. Or that she was serious about future plans like that. But still, she was female. "Maybe someday. You neva know what the future hold."

"True that," Max agreed. You certainly didn't.

"Well, this is me," Cindy continued, glancing up at the building they'd arrived at, where her apartment was located. "I'll see you tomorrow Boo. Walk safe."

Max parted from her friend, walking slowly, watching to make sure that Original got safely into her somewhat secure building before ambling off in the direction of her own home. Noting the various catcalls, a continuation of her journey to The Crash earlier that evening, Max could understand where Cindy's concern lay. They had looked quite a bit like hookers. But her no nonsense stride and confident mien, plus the fact that she wasn't actually looking for a good time, seemed to keep possibilities down to a minimum.

She arrived home with a minimum of fuss, only having to give just one guy a death glare before he moved off to find someone else more willing to play whatever perverted sexual games he'd had in mind. She'd done the expedient thing by keeping her apartment keys tucked in her shoes. She could feel the nudge of them every step she took. But they would have detracted from the lines of her outfit and there was certainly no room in her gold short shorts to tuck them anywhere. She was just glad they hadn't fallen out after that little tussle with Rafer and his goons. She extracted the set and made it into the apartment building and to the elevator, feeling slightly tired. It was the same after every event that was a little more adrenaline fueled than a normal workday. And while she certainly wouldn't sleep, she did feel like relaxing, perhaps with a bath and a book, provided Kendra wasn't in need of the facilities.

She opened the door to their apartment, having heard Kendra's voice murmuring on the other side of the door. She hoped that her friend wasn't entertaining, and didn't think she was as there were no notes or warnings at the door as Kendra sometimes remembered to do. So either they were not at the knockin' boots portion of the evening, or Kendra was on the phone. As Max came around the partition that led to the living room, she saw that it was the latter.

"Oh, just in time," Kendra announced into the cordless phone she held, with a large smile. "She just walked in." Okay, so whoever it was, was calling for Max, or had mentioned her.

For her then, as Kendra had just gestured for Max to come take the phone. "And whoa," the blond chuckled before Max could reach her, "looking sluttier than I have ever seen before." She dropped the mouthpiece a little and gave Max a thorough once over. She hadn't been there earlier when Max was getting ready to go out. "What were you doing tonight?" her friend demanded teasingly. "And why wasn't I invited?"

"I'll tell you later," Max retorted instantly, holding her hand out for the phone, "and it's not what you think."

Kendra just smiled mischievously and handed the phone to her friend. "It's Sam," she announced before she moved off to gather up whatever she had been working on at the desk. Max groaned silently, knowing that it was fruitless to hope that Sam had taken no attention of what Kendra was saying. The pair of them got along well, once Sam had managed to get past blushing at Kendra's outrageous sexual comments. Feeling decidedly irate that she'd been put in this position, by Sketchy and his need for help, by the males in the world that were ruled by their penises, and by her traitorous roommate, Max headed to her room to begin changing into something a little less binding.

"Hey Sam," she sighed into the phone, wondering where the diatribe would begin.

"Slutty?" was the first word out of his mouth. "Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not," Max informed him, hoping that he would go ahead and drop that line of thought, even as she moved to the dresser to begin collecting her preferred night clothes. Meaning clothes that she would be staying home in. Oh why couldn't he have called fifteen minutes earlier? But she knew he wouldn't just drop it. No, past history had showed her that the caveman protective streak in her brother was still in play, even after all this time and the distance between them. "No, I was out with Cindy tonight."

"Doing what?" Sam demanded gently. He knew better by now than to push buttons with her. But he did genuinely care for her well being. She heard grunts from the background on his end and cringed slightly. Dean must have been there, wherever they were. Max clamped a lid on those thoughts before they even had a chance to get started. She did not need a reminder of their last major encounter right now. Especially dressed as she was and with the mood she was in.

"We were just doin' a friend a favor," she muttered as she kicked off her platform gold sandals.

"And which friend was that?" he asked immediately. Max rolled her eyes. Dog and bone, same as usual. With her free hand, she carefully unzipped the gold shorts and began to push them down her hips. It occupied her for a moment until she realized that Sam was waiting, seemingly impatient for an answer.

"Oh, just Sketchy," she got off flippantly. But perhaps, from their previous conversations, that wasn't the best thing to tell him, since she had long ago confide in him the other messengers interest in her from their first meeting. Apparently evident in the dangerous tone that Sam repeated his name. "Oh not like that!" she protested.

"So what were you doing then?" Sam sounded like he was just keeping the lid on his ire, if not his curiosity.

"We were just out doin' a little hustling," Max frowned. Surely that wouldn't be as bad as he obviously feared.

"Okay," Sam sounded set to reason things out, which was immediately what he began doing. "So if you and Sketch both have full time jobs, why did you need to be hustling?" She could hear the disapproval rolling off him, making her feel like she was twelve years old again. And then she heard a resigned sigh. "What sort of trouble did he get into now?"

She couldn't help but laugh at the tired tone he used. Everyone in Sketch's sphere was used to the absurd situations the stoner often found himself in. "Do you really want to know Sam?"

"I don't know," Sam chuckled. She could almost see him running a hand over his face, like a worn out parent with a child that just never learned. She smiled, her face softening. "Do I? How bad is it?"

"Not bad now that OC and I took care of it," Max replied. And it wasn't. She was pretty sure she'd taught those at the Odessa Social Club a little lesson. She sighed once more. She was pretty sure that Sam would not give up on this, since Sketchy had involved not only Max, but Cindy as well. There was still something, not Neanderthal certainly, but a chivalry that existed in Sam that got his dander up when females were deliberately put in dangerous situations. Even when he was one hundred percent aware that said females could handle themselves. She finally decided to give him an abbreviated version of the events. "He was running money and lost a package."

"And of course, whoever he was running the money for," Sam surmised, correctly, "wanted to be paid back? And please, tell me it wasn't drug money." She heard another protest in the background but decided to ignore what it could mean.

"No, not drugs," she assured her older brother as she finished changing, having to pull the phone slightly away from her ear. "It was a gambling club." There was silence for a moment.

"That's almost as bad," Sam decided.

"It wasn't that bad Sam," Max drawled out as she took a seat at the foot of her bed. "Like Cindy said, they didn't want to cause trouble when all those nice money losin' folks were watching, right?"

"And how about when they weren't watching?" Sam retorted sharply. He wasn't a fool and he could read his sister as well as anyone was likely to. With his father and Dean, Sam had learned early, the art of reading what people didn't say, because those two, never seemed to say anything at all. And it spoke volumes.

"We won that money fair and square Sam," Max shrugged philosophically. Or at least, that was the understanding of the club people. Not that they liked it any. Max figured that they were probably more pissed that the two dumb girls hadn't been so dumb and that they'd almost been caught with their pants down in the age old rivalry between the sexes. They'd allowed their dicks to do their thinking against whatever better judgment they might have had. And they lost.

"I mean, how do you rig roulette when you've never been to the club before?" She knew that would give him pause, to think that she'd won the money that way. And she had, a little. But no one need know it was because of the genetically superior mathematically inclined brain that Manticore had souped up for her. "And I think they were more pissed off because Cindy and I used the DB route on them and they totally fell for it."

"DB?" Sam repeated and there was silence on his end for a moment and then, as if to someone else, "oh, yeah, I get it. Dumb blond"

And then his attention was back on her and Max found herself wishing that Dean would suddenly decide to take the phone from his brother. They may have been estranged, but in the old days, before... well at least with Dean, she could have laughed over the situation instead of being grilled on it. She was just about to change the subject, from both those lines of thought, when Sam did it for her.

"So what else have you been up to? Aside from work? Been doing any jobs for Logan? That going well?" he rattled off quickly.

"Logan?" Max paused. Where had that come from. "Actually things are fine there. Not a lot of information forthcoming, but I knew that going in."

"Uh huh," Sam murmured, sounding thoughtful and concerned, almost like an overbearing parent so painfully out of the loop. "So is it worth it to keep working for him if he can't help you?"

"Hey," Max protested softly. "We do some good deeds I'll have you know," she said it lightly, jokingly. "We can't all be supernatural hunters extraordinaire."

"Good deeds?" her brother muttered and Max wondered when this phone call had turned into a fishing expedition. Actually, it probably was from the get go and she wondered what Sam was leading up to. Had they discovered that Logan was some sort of incubus or something absurd like that? Nah, it would have registered in her physical as well as mental senses, just like almost every other supernatural creature she'd come across. That was one time she actually liked her feline DNA. It was useful for at least something.

"Yeah," Max tried to reassure him. "I mean, just today, we were able to help out this young woman off of information I picked up." She didn't bother to tell Sam how exactly she had gotten this information.

"Okay, so you helped," Sam offered cautiously before pausing and then, Max could hear his deep breath before he continued. "Or is that just what Logan wants you to think?"

She was stunned. What the hell had Logan done to Sam to piss him off? There had to be something, even though, as she could recall through the haze of grief over hearing about Jessica, the seizures and the storm, Logan had been solicitous, polite and reassuring with Sam on the phone. Hell, Logan had probably been fed super-polite vitamins right along with his morning pablum by the nanny.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean Sam?" she demanded, her tone low and just slightly hurt. No, she didn't particularly enjoy people, especially people that were supposed to be close to her questioning her rationale or her capabilities in judging character. She heard her brother sigh and she could hear Dean in the background speaking sharply. Whether he was defending her or egging Sam on, she just couldn't tell. But suddenly, she didn't really feel like being on the phone with older brother right now.

"Look Max," Sam decided on a resigned tone, she could tell that right away. Perhaps yes, he did feel a little bad about pushing this on her, but Sam wouldn't have gone on about it if he hadn't in some way justified whatever he was trying to find out from her in some way. And now it was up to Max to figure out where the motivation was coming from because she knew he wouldn't just admit to it. Unless she was spot on the nose and really wanted to push the issue. "I admit, I was a little curious, so I did a little digging." Well that certainly sounded ominous. Max's eyes fluttered shut for just a moment and then she was wondering, what had Sam found out that she didn't know about? Was it something about Logan, something about her? "It was mostly just basic stuff you know," he was trying to soften the blow, which seemed typical of him. Letting his sister off the hook in some way. But Max had had enough of that.

"Why don't you just tell me what it is you're trying to say Sam," she directed and she could almost see his look of perturbation that she was cutting across his carefully thought out line of questioning. But she wasn't going to let him off the hook either. Whatever it was, she needed to know. Damage control was forefront in her mind.

"Fine," he got out calmly. "I found out a lot of stuff and it made me wonder. How well do you know Logan? Because there's a lot of stuff in his past-?"

"Like what?" Max demanded. So this was about Logan and not her. That was good, after a fashion, but she thought that Sam would have understood. But maybe not.

"Okay fine," Sam had obviously decided the time for pussyfooting around was gone. "Did you know about his link to Nathan Herrero? He was a journalist, much like your "friend", who got himself killed for speaking out so publicly. And since Mr. Cale decided to drop off the radar for a while, it got me... us to wondering, why? Max, it's possible that you might be into something, I mean-!"

Max felt as if her brain had been clamped in a huge neon glaring sign shouting "irony" to the world as she shook her head slightly in disbelief. "He's not dead," she asserted calmly. Okay, so now the crux of the problem. Sam thought Logan was a bad guy trying to disguise himself as a good guy.

"I- what?" Once again Max managed to effortlessly take the wind out of her brother's sails.

"Herrero," Max repeated as if speaking to a slow witted child. "He's not dead."

"Yes he is Max," Sam insisted. "I kind of remember when it happened. I mean, the news was all over some of my classes. And the information I found recently, suggests that your friend-!"

"Oh for crying out loud Sam!" Max cried out, breaking through his justification. Why was it that the Winchester males couldn't accept when someone else obviously had more information than they did and just shut up and listen for once. She'd thought Sam immune, but now, obviously, after being in Dean's influence for more than a few hours had proved that it must be a genetic fault. "Look, Logan was being smart. He was just as outspoken as Hererro. It would have been stupid to keep squawking over the things that his friend and mentor had just apparently been murdered for."

"Okay, but-!"

Again she cut him off. "And I know for a fact that Nathan Hererro isn't dead, because that girl that Logan and I were helping, was Nathan's daughter Alina!" She could hear his confusion as an almost palpable thing. "So now Sam, do you really think that I should go back to Alina and tell her that we were wrong when we found out that Nathan's housekeeper slash lover bought a nice little apartment several months after the incident to move them into? And that when I went over there to talk to her and saw Nathan hale and hearty that oops, somehow I was wrong? Should I tell her about how Logan must have contacted the wrong man who met with him once it was safe to do so to tell him what really happened? Should I tell her that the man she is having dinner and a long overdue reunion with even as we speak right now is not her daddy? On the basis of what? Because my _brother_ said so?"

Max's chest was heaving at the end of that little rant and she took a deep breath to calm herself. She wondered just for a moment why she was going off on Sam, but in reality he was attacking her first. By questioning her life and her decisions. Something that she tried not to do to him, even as she worried just as much about his well being as he did her.

"I'm sorry Max," he apologized. "I didn't know any of that."

"Yeah well, it's not like we were gonna advertise the fact and give Nathan's enemies another shot at him," Max retorted dryly. "But I gotta ask, where is this all coming from Sam? The twenty questions bordering on interrogation here?"

"Hey, can't I be-!"

"No, don't pull that crap on me," she warned. "What is going on?"

"Fine." There was a long pause filled with silence on both ends. "I saw the hover drone footage, the attack on Logan," he informed her softly. Max bit off the curse that wanted to escape her tongue. She should have realized that right away, she told herself. Anything public about Logan was accessible to Sam and that attack had been well publicized thanks to local news crews and his identification had been easy to make.

"Sam," she began, knowing why now he was so upset. Not because Logan had been in danger. No, he didn't give a damn about Logan beyond caring for another human being. It was Max and her safety that concerned him. Just like always.

"Why didn't you tell me?" the question was asked, plaintively, quietly.

"Because I didn't want you to worry," was her automatic reply. It was flimsy and overused, but it was true.

"So instead, I get all worked up with conspiracy theories, fears and no answers," Sam chuckled, relieved now that the truth was out on both sides. "Yeah Max, that worked really well."

"Ugh I'm sorry!" she mock pouted, even though he wouldn't be able to see it. "But I'll bet you don't tell me every little detail of what you're doing when you're out looking for Dad. For instance, what are you hunting right now?"

"Well..." he hesitated and Max took her moment.

"Ha ha!" she laughed out triumphantly. "Not so fun when the shoe is on the other foot, huh?"

"Oh it's not that bad," Sam retorted. "As long as we don't go swimming in the lake."

"Oh jeez, not another one," Max groaned softly. "And me not there to wedgie you out of a bad situation," she teased. She heard Sam's injured grunt.

"You are such a brat," he complained good-naturedly. "But seriously Max, please, don't keep things from me. Even if they're bad..."

"Oh Sam," Max sighed.

There was no way that she could keep to that kind of promise. There was so much of her early life that affected her still, would follow and haunt her forever and there was just no way that she knew how to share that with him. At least not without running the risk of alienating him forever. At best. Being another one of the things they hunted, the worst.

"I mean," Sam went on as if she hadn't been speaking, "yeah, I know you weren't there, but an organized hit like that? And I know that's what it was!" he exclaimed, in case she tried to protest, which she didn't. "This Cale guy has enemies and I don't want you caught in the crossfire."

"It wasn't Logan they were after," Max interjected patiently. "Sam, he was trying to help that woman and her daughter get to Witness Protection and unfortunately he paid a heavy price for trying to do the right thing."

"Yes he did," Sam responded, his voice heavy with sympathy and Max's eyes fluttered shut. She could just see her brother putting himself in Logan's shoes after a fashion because that's the way Sam was. That was why he was so good at ferreting out information, because he was so naturally empathetic that people felt comfortable talking with him about things they wouldn't normally talk about with strangers.

"But I don't do that," Max tried to reassure him. "I mean, I don't go into a situation like that sort of thing without thinking through all the angles."

"So you're saying that you would have left that woman hanging out to dry, and her kid?" Sam asked shrewdly and Max refrained from giving in to the urge to curse.

"Nope," she replied honestly, because she had after all, ended up helping the mother and daughter, reuniting them after Edgar Sonrisa had had the girl kidnapped. "I would just go about it a little smarter."

"So what happened to them anyways?" Sam asked, giving her a momentary reprieve from the previous guilt trip. "Did they..."

"Oh," Max thought quickly, wondering how to downplay her involvement. "Well, it seemed pretty complicated. I only know parts of it. But I guess Lauren, the mom, found someone to cook up a ruse with." Of course, not telling Sam that she was the one Lauren had worked with, "they managed to get the bad guys dumbest dirt bag." She wisely refrained fom giving names, lest Sam do some more digging around. "They pulled some kind of messing with the mind that had the guy thinking his boss had betrayed him. He spilled the beans on where the kid was and then went and took out his boss. Let's see," Max paused, pretending to think things over. "The news report said that there was a huge gunfight and bunch of baddies bit the bullet. Literally."

"Maa-ax," Sam half-whined. "You really..."

"What Sam?" suddenly she felt amused. She could almost tell what was coming.

"Okay, I know why you're there, but oh man, you need to get away from that place."

"'Cause New York or Los Angeles would be so much better given their crime rates?" she teased. "And hell no on the small towns. They just attract too much freaky crap! You know what I mean?"

There was an amused pause on the other end of the line and Max knew that she had made her point, even if Sam didn't want to give in. "All right," he finally chuckled. "You're right. I can't argue that. But would you please, just keep me informed. I am allowed to worry about you."

"Just as long as you do the same," Max shot right back. Keeping Sam informed about what she was up to occasionally was a much different tune than telling him all her deep dark secrets. She could handle that. And it wasn't as if they would come charging in trying to protect little sister from the big bad world. No, they were much too busy looking for Dad. Which was right where they should be.

"Deal," Sam affirmed in a much stronger voice now. "So, uh, was it really, I mean, going by Kendra's yardstick, um..."

"Oh man Sam," Max giggled. "Tight shorts, halter top and platform shoes. And no, we weren't goin' for the hooker look. More of the dumb, young club girls just out looking for a chance to unwind after work." That was more than enough information for her brother.

"Okay," Sam inhaled deeply. "I'm going to drop this. But only because my brain is going to explode if I think about my little sister dressed like that in too much detail. That's just wrong!" Max gave in to a giggle, though it was forced this time, but apparently Sam didn't notice. "So aside from everything I've been bugging you about, what else has been going on?"

Max took a moment to think over the mundanes of every day life, left behind when the bright lights of Seattle nightlife beckoned. And she knew that Sam needed that. He needed some way of reaching, being able to touch normal, if only on the surface. To keep himself from losing his mind, in the grief, in the numbness that loss and the craziness that hunting brought. So, pulling up the memory of Normal's latest favorite slurs against his employees, she set out to entertain her brother. Helping to keep the wolves at bay for just a little while, at least.

"So George Phelps huh?" Dean muttered as he directed the car down the road.

He and Sam had been called in by an old client of his father's, if one wanted to call him that. He and John had helped Jerry and his family with a poltergeist that had taken up residence in the families home. And so, suspecting something supernatural in a recent airplane wreck in Jerry's field of work, he'd called for help. That put him on the smart list, as far as Dean was concerned. He glanced over at Sam, perusing what information he could while traveling in the Impala. He knew that Sam had heard him, just as he knew that Sam would reply in his own good time. Dean wasn't too worried. He had the address of the guy's widow, who they had decided to interview next, as that was where their leads were pointing.

But unfortunately, before Sam could respond and give Dean a legitimate excuse to make some noise, aside from the kind the stereo made, which he wasn't quite in the mood for, Sam's phone rang.

A mixture of feelings ran through Dean every time he heard the ring tone that denoted a call from Max. Sam wasn't like him, programming his cell phone to ring specific songs whenever a certain girl called. But it was a higher toned pitch than normal, sure to catch Sam's attention wherever he was or whatever he was doing, because Max was always someone that little brother wanted to talk to. And even out of the corner of his resolutely staring straight ahead, ostensibly focusing on the road, eye, he could see Sam's face light up like it was Christmas, birthday and every little thing that made life worthwhile in this crappy world all rolled into one. His jaw clenching tightly, Dean forced himself not to go there.

You'd think he'd be used to this ache now that had intensified from Sam bringing Max, albeit unknowingly, to the forefront of life again.

No such luck.

"Hey Maxie," Sam greeted cheerfully enough, shifting things on his lap so that they wouldn't slip to the floorboards as he held the phone up to his ear. "Yeah, I've got a little time. We're just heading over to interview a woman about her husband's death."

He listened for a moment and then burst out laughing and Dean once again felt that momentary surge of jealousy. Not just that Sam could talk to Max. No he didn't really begrudge Sam that. But also that Max had the ability to make his brother laugh in the midst of... Well, he should just be damn grateful that someone could lift Sam's spirits. Because Dean was fast running out of ideas to keep Sam's emotions on a more even keel. So if he had to put up with and wasn't that an understatement, of these phone call intrusions from a painful subject for him, he would.

But then Sam was speaking again.

"Okay, that'd be better that what we're dealing with," his younger brother was grinning. "So shoot." He listened intently for a moment, his face darkening before he sputtered out, "okay, how is Herbal getting fired, in any way funny?"

Who was Herbal again? Dean wondered before his memory banks kicked in automatically with the answer. The philosophical Jamaican that Max was friends with and who worked at Jam Pony with her. And even as he thought this, he could hear Max's slightly indignant voice, if not the words, through the phone and Sam shook his head ruefully.

"Okay, I'm sorry. Go on."

And then his face went from dark to puzzled to worried instantly, the changes so fast that Dean barely had time to recognize, let alone acknowledge them.

"But I wasn't anywhere near Seattle," Sam interjected, slightly panicked and once again Dean heard Max's voice overriding whatever Sam could say next. And it was apparently enough as Sam visibly relaxed back against the seat. "Oh okay. Good. Wait!"

That excited startled tone had Dean easing off the gas pedal slightly, wondering what the hell was going on. Something funny, Sam in Seattle when he obviously wasn't? Regardless of how things were between them, or weren't, there was no way in hell Dean would back off of something potentially threatening his family. And Max was still a part of that, in spite of...

"Your brother?" Sam was seemingly echoing something Max had said and Dean frowned again. "Oh my God!" Sam exclaimed. "Who-?" he didn't have the full question out before it was apparently answered for him.

His eyes flashed wide as he turned in his seat to be able to face his brother, whatever excitement Max was full of transferring itself to him if the sudden grin was anything to judge by. Dean's glance kept flickering between the road and his brother, knowing that he too was waiting on tenterhooks and wondering if Sam could tell and obviously his brother could, since Sam suddenly pulled the phone from his ear and switched the call to speaker phone.

Dean was about to protest, but then his ears were filled by her sweet voice, happy, carefree and he couldn't speak for the lump formed in his throat and chest.

"So like I said," she continued on, oblivious to the fact that her audience had multiplied, "Normal hired this new guy right. And he wants us to show _Sam_ the ropes. And of course, we were all pissed that he had fired Herbal, so we were staging this slowdown. Anyway, Vogelsang, that P.I. that I had hired, contacted me to let me know that he had some info for me. So I stopped for coffee, with this guy trailing after me like some little lost puppy, butting his nose in while I was waiting for Vogelsang to call me back. So I dealt with that and then this guy Sam, he offers to pay for the coffee and starts asking me if I wanted to get together, I don't know, dinner or something and first thought on my mind, he's hitting on me right?"

Sam made noises, like he was concurring on her process of thought while Dean's lips were pressed together so tightly, his tongue in danger of being bitten off as he forced himself to stay quiet in the bittersweet position he was in.

"So I totally blow him off and head out," Max continued. "Bunch of boring parts of the story, yadda yadda, I find out that word on the street was that someone was looking for me. So of course, I start looking for this person and it leads me to this crappy little rundown apartment complex by the day, week or month, right?"

"Yeah," Sam grunted, wondering probably, just like Dean was, what yadda yadda boring parts she was deliberately leaving out of the story, but the excitement in her voice was just too much to deny at the moment.

"So lecture me later, but I broke in," she went on and Dean had to smile about that. Yeah, she knew Sam and knew what would be forthcoming in the lecture series. It was ll right for them, when they were working, but for Max, the show would be on the other foot. "Found this helmet of this guy I was street racing on my baby. Found a flier for Jam Pony and some other stuff and I knew, just knew... it was Zack!"

"Zack!" Sam repeated, his face lighting up and Dean could understand why. Zack, her big brother, protector, all around great guy that she'd expounded on so much of, in the Winchester's early time together. That time, learning to be the Winchester's little girl, their family was a distant, longed for time to Dean.

"Oh God, that's great Maxie. Awesome!" Dean could tell that Sam wasn't faking the enthusiasm. It really was good news, right? "So then what happened?"

"Well, I was just so stunned, that he managed to sneak up behind me, scare the hell out of me and take absolute pleasure in the fact that I hadn't recognized him like he recognized me."

"Oh of course," Sam chuckled. "So Sam was really Zack, huh? Wonder why he changed his name?" It was an absent thought, though of course aliases were nothing new to them.

"He wasn't sure it was me," Max explained quickly. "He travels quite a bit, doin' who knows what, we didn't really get into that. But he thought I was familiar enough to take a chance and of course, duh me, I took it all the wrong way."

"Oh yeah," Sam smiled down at the phone that was now resting in his lap. "Maybe it's happened before and he ended up a little disappointed."

"Think so," Max agreed. "Anyway, I found my brother!"

"Actually, it sounds like he found you," Sam teased.

"Whatever!" Max huffed and Dean was surprised to feel the corners of his lips twitching into something resembling a smile. The refrain was so familiar that how could he help but feel comforted by it.

"So what happens now?" Sam asked, unconsciously echoing Dean's very vocal thought.

"Well," Max spoke slowly, considering. "We managed to catch up a little, but Zack could only stay for a little while."

"How come?" Sam asked at once.

"He's looking for the others too," Max supplied.

"Any luck?" Sam asked, slightly breathless and Dean checked his brother, gaging this reaction. He knew instinctively that Sam was wondering the same things he was himself. Now that Max had found a member of her real family, what did the future hold?

"No," she replied, slightly gloomy, which was totally and one hundred percent understandable. There was a small pause before she admitted exactly what they'd been worried about. "He did ask me to go with him."

The two brothers glanced at one another at exactly the same moment, their fears and worries communicated with the barest glance. "And what did you say?" Sam asked gently.

"I said no," Max responded just as quietly. "I mean, I could have, but with... Seth," her voice broke off uncomfortably and Dean wondered if she had had to break that news to her brother. That was... he didn't want to have to ever imagine going through that. "Anyway, Zack didn't really like it, but he understood, I guess. And besides," her voice picked up again, "if I stay in one place..."

"He'll know where to find you," Sam finished for her, pleasure for her and relief commingling without the slightest revelation of guilt for feeling selfish that she wasn't leaving them. At least, any more than she already had. But Dean wasn't so sure. The closer she got to finding her family then the further she would move away from theirs. Until maybe they were just a card at Christmas time, a phone call here or there.

And even with the way he felt about... things, there was just no way in hell that he would ever be okay with that.


	33. A Close Call With Death

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to NC-17 for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: Dean/ Max, other canon pairings

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Thirty-three

A Close Call With Death

Dean stared at the expanse of highway they were currently on, having been guilted with the puppy dog eyes of doom from Sam to turn around and head back the way they had come. He blinked and shifted his vision as often as necessary to prevent tunnel vision while he was driving. It was one of the things he had to be on guard against. So much driving could get monotonous and he wondered sometimes if the habit of taking interest in each landmark or road sign or building they passed, in an effort to keep himself engaged rather than on autopilot; might be why people construed that he had a short attention span at times. Spending so much time in the Impala, he needed to use these tricks often. And sometimes it was hard to lose the habit immediately upon leaving said vehicle.

But right now, listening to his brother whining at Max again about things that were happening in and around Seattle, he wondered if perhaps a little swerving would be enough to get him off the damn phone. But he also knew that Sam was worried about his friends and that since Dean didn't know them, he was unable to share much with Dean. And he also knew that Sam was loathe to talk about college life for so many varied and pained reasons. So Sam's response had been to call the one bright spot in his life and veg out that way. Dean instinctively knew that his behavior whenever Sam called Max would circumvent any pushing on a topic that he wasn't ready to share about and would also produce a tight-lipped quiet older brother. Sam still hadn't worked out why that was and if Dean had his way, he never would. More and more, he was convinced that Sam wouldn't understand, especially since he didn't or couldn't see Max the way that Dean had learned to.

"Well what about that hostage situation at that hotel?" Sam was demanding. "What was that about?"

Dean hid an impatient sigh. For all that Sam was thrilled about Max being able to retain her normal life when Sam's had been so ruthlessly shattered, he certainly didn't like the idea of his little sister being in a hot spot like Seattle. Every time Sam checked, it seemed like there was something bad going down. It would give Dean a nervous breakdown if he wasn't absolutely certain that Max knew how to handle herself. After all, she had been trained by the best. As it was, he worried too, but since he always had, about both of them, he was used to moderating his reactions to the various troubles that they all found themselves in.

Dean was removed from his thoughts by Sam's sudden gasp. "Is she all right?" he snapped out, his eyes, large, wide, stunned, caught Dean's for a moment and Dean frowned. Was who all right? But then Sam stiffened at whatever Max was saying. And then Dean knew, with a smirk that she was in it for something. "And why the hell were you there?" Sam's voice had gone dangerously low and the synapses starting firing quicker in Dean's brain.

He knew of course, about the hostage situation that had taken place at a science conference in Seattle, mainly because Sam had caught the news and was bemoaning Max's new home yet again. Someone they both knew had obviously been there, as now seemed likely, very likely from Sam's thunderous straight ahead glare and clenched jaw, that Max had been too. He could hear Max's voice, distant and unclear, just the sound of it making his skin itch and ache, before he managed to shut down the response, and suddenly Sam's face went from stony to crumpled in a matter of nanoseconds. Dean held his breath, ready to panic as he strove for control, but then Sam had himself back in hand, even if he was glancing out his window. Utilizing the side mirror, Dean could still see a tear trickle out of the inside corner of Sam's eye on the side away from his brother.

"I remember," Sam finally uttered, his voice small and strained and Dean started looking for places to pull over. There was a long bit of silence on their end while Dean slowed the vehicle as imperceptibly as he could, before Sam spoke again. His voice was stronger now, even if Dean knew instantly that the chuckle was forced. "Yeah, me too. I'll talk to you later."

Dean waited for about thirty seconds after Sam hung up his cell phone and stuffed it back into his coat pocket before he asked. "She was at the hotel?"

Sam didn't even glance up from where he was now leaning over to retrieve his laptop. "Yeah. Apparently her roommate Kendra was doing translations for that Japanese doctor. The one that was thrown off the roof. And she let Max look at the notes and Max thought that the work this guy was doing might help with her seizures," Sam explained morosely. Dean didn't know how to take that. Yes, it was good news if Max could get help with that deceptively dangerous medical problem, but none of them were big on the hopefulness of theory. But at the same time, wasn't it just friggin' Winchester luck that one place that should be safe was rife with trouble.

"And she decided to go?" Dean concluded automatically. That was obvious, given the conversation.

"Uh huh," Sam agreed as he booted up his computer once more. "She decided to go and she said that when the terrorists came in, it was pretty tense, but they let the women go as a good faith gesture."

"Well, that's good then," Dean sighed with relief. Spirits and poltergeists were one thing, dumb ass humans a complete other. "Anybody else hurt aside from that doctor dying?"

"Um, I think just a couple of the terrorists," Sam scrunched up his face as he recalled the information from the news blurb that he had caught. "One's neck was broken and uh, the lead terrorist was shot, I believe, while trying to escape police custody."

"Then I guess that's the end of that," Dean shrugged it off. Max was safe. That was what was important.

"Except that there was something else," Sam grunted and Dean rolled his eyes. That was one that had recently been added to the repertoire to avoid that dreaded tunnel vision. Dean caught his little brother sneaking a glance at him out of the corner of his eye. Dean stayed quiet, knowing that Sammy would get to it, he was just trying to bait his brother into snarking for the information instead of letting his brother draw it out, just to avoid whatever Max had brought up that made the kid go weepy. Dean would probably cave in a second. But he didn't have to. "There were reports that another guy was thrown off the roof, but someone saved him."

"Saved him how?" Dean demanded. Not an easy feat to save someone from a situation like that.

"Uh, no cameras caught it, but plenty of eyewitnesses said that the terrorists hauled this negotiator up to the roof and threw him and then seconds after," Sam recalled, his face still contorting as his thoughts played across his face, "someone else came flying off the roof right after him, rope tied around her waist. At least, most of the reports said it was a she. Anyway, there was gunfire and they slammed through one of the windows

"Gunfire?" Dean picked that up immediately, taking his eyes off of the road long enough to glare his brother into reassuring him and apparently Sam wasn't in the mood for games, since he continued immediately.

"Yeah, the terrorists were shooting the rope, I believe," he tried to remember everything that had been reported and for yet another time, Dean was immensely grateful that Sam had the amazing retention for minutiae that he did. "But whomever it was that jumped and the guy that was thrown, like I said, crashed through a window and since there were no mentions of dead bodies being found in a hotel room, I assumed they were okay."

"Not always a safe assumption to make," Dean mused. "So are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he demanded tiredly, resisting the urge to rub at his eyes. He caught Sam's brief nod out of the corner of his eye.

It could pretty much go without saying that both of them suspected that it had been Max that had made that suicide leap off the building to save someone else. And even knowing that she was safe and sound, at home in her apartment and snarking at Sammy, Dean still felt that same despair clenching at the pit of his stomach. And because he couldn't cry over it, he gave into the other end of the spectrum. "Now correct me if I'm wrong," he grouched, injecting as much derision as he could muster into his voice. "But didn't she promise to keep you updated on what was going on, as long as you did the same?"

He could tell in an instant by Sam's sharp, indrawn breath that he had hit a nerve. And the sheen in his eyes meant it was a deep one and realizing about the only thing that affected Sammy in that manner at the time, Dean groaned silently, wishing that he'd bitten his tongue instead. But instead of retracting his words, he started searching for something else to say. Words off the top of his head didn't usually fail him but he was well aware of his stellar capability from suffering foot in mouth disease. Normally it didn't bother him, but Sam's control was tenuous at best and the added stress of his friends from college having troubles was not promoting his getting... not better, but maybe forward motion was all Dean could hope for right now.

"Max didn't tell me because it was Jess that shared the original article with her," Sam forced out through gritted teeth and Dean immediately saw the crux of the problem from both ends. Max hadn't told Sam because she didn't want to explain everything to their nosy brother and bring up bad memories, which were brought up anyway and Sam didn't want to think about happier times with his girl because it led to the inevitable depression of said girlfriend's death. And yet here it was anyway.

"Huh," Dean grunted out, pretending oblivion. "So, this Becky friend of yours? She hot?" The intended change from concerned older brother to horn dog had it's usual effect and Sam was the one snorting and rolling his eyes, but at least he wasn't a blubbering mess. Something to be avoided at all costs.

Sam came slowly to consciousness, fully this time, just to realize, by the slight burn around his throat as he sagged forward, that he was tied up.

That bastard had tied a friggin' rope around his neck!

He inched his head back and eased the pressure off his throat as best as he could. Once his vision began to clear and the throbbing in his head where the shape shifter that had taken on his brother's likeness, had clobbered him with the tire iron from the trunk, grew, Sam began to catalog his surroundings, his restraints and how quickly he could figure a way out.

But his movements attracted the wrong sort of attention as the thing, he refused to call it Dean, even in the silence of his mind, was shuffling around it's lair. Sam saw denim clad legs approaching and wondered, a little panicky, where his brother was. He tried to remember clearly what his brother had been wearing beyond his standard outfit of jeans, t-shirt and his leather jacket. He dearly hoped that this thing hadn't caught his brother and...

His chin snapped up sharply as the thing wearing Dean's face came into clearer focus. It stood silently, regarding Sam before it's arm crashed out, backhanding Sam, adding insult to injury.

"Where is he? Where's Dean?" he demanded on a low growl.

"I wouldn't worry about him," the thing responded in his brother's voice, though the inflections were strange to someone who knew his brother better than just about anybody. "I'd worry about you," it added thoughtfully. But if it knew anything about the Winchester boys, it'd know their stubbornness. Even people that didn't know them recognized that almost immediately.

"Where is he?" Sam repeated.

"You don't really wanna know," it smirked before walking away. Sam didn't know how to take that. 'Don't want to know', as in the worst had happened or 'don't want to know', because it was smart enough to separate the boys and Dean's holding area in the thing's lair was more disgusting than this? Though Sam didn't think it could get much worse. Well, at least there weren't the skeletal remains of victims making his restraint any more unpleasant.

"I swear," the thing continued, "the more I learn about you and your family?" he said it derisively, tilting his head and scoffing. "I thought I came from a bad background."

Those words were enough to catch Sam's attention, because there were several things that Sam had realized. One, was that one way or another, he was going to get out of there. Two, Dean was somewhere, probably unconscious or aware and spitting nails and just as determined as Sam to make it out. And because of those two things, the third, that just in case they ever came across something like this again, it would be useful to know. It was always useful. And with those unconscious thoughts darting around his head, he demanded, "what do you mean, learn?"

The shape shifter was looking through some of the weaponry that Sam recognized as personal. It glanced at Sam and then moved it's hand lightly over it's forehead. Sam frowned, even as he fought to remind himself that it wasn't truly his brother who looked to be in pain now. The thing groaned lowly shuddering from it's back up. It moved it's hand in a loose fist to press lightly to it's mouth and Sam tried to swallow back rising bile. It looked once more to Sam and moved it's hand.

"He's sure got issues with you," it taunted. Picking up the weapons bag it had just been rooting through and moving back towards Sam. "You got to go to college," it explained further. "He had to stay home." He dropped the bag casually between them but Sam knew from the current tightness of the ropes that he had no chance of getting at it. "I mean _I_" it stressed, "had to stay home, with Max, with Dad. You don't think I had dreams of my own? But they needed me. Where the hell where you? Sure as hell not protecting little sister from me, huh?"

Sam felt a bone coldness at that, those words. He knew deep down that the thing was just taunting him, but the way he said it. It knew what had happened between them and Sam tried to resist giving in, playing this game. Almost as if he could sense Sam's struggle, it continued.

"What I did to her? To little Maxie? That was beyond fucked up," he taunted and Sam grit his teeth together, staring stonily up at the monster. "Did you ever notice that I'm my own worse enemy? And poor Max, she got caught in the crossfire. And she's still reeling from that, isn't she?"

Sam gulped against the truth of that, because it was obvious to anyone with a pulse, the pain his siblings were in.

"Yeah," the thing cooed and Sam fought against the bile again, "it really cuts you up that you don't know and we won't tell you. It's that sick, that we can't tell you. But it's not gonna come from me. If there's one thing I'll go to hell for, it's what I did to her."

Sam swallowed the insane urge to launch himself at the monster and strangle those... truth? Taunts? Whatever it was, the urge needed to be quelled. "Where...is... my... brother?" he demanded again and then recoiled slightly as the thing leaned over him.

"I _am_ your brother. See, deep down, I'm just jealous. You got friends. You could have a life. Me? I know I'm a freak. And sooner or later, everyone's gonna leave me."

"What are you talkin' about?" Sam tried to prompt, hating himself for giving in and playing this game. The thing seemed to have access to Dean's memories, maybe even his thoughts, but who knew if it was correctly interpreting those things. Something deep down in Sam told him that it was.

"Man, I treated Max like she was a fuckin' princess and in one night? Had her runnin' for her life. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to and he ditched me. No explanation, no nothing. Just..." the thing made a small noise to approximate an explosion, throwing his hands out gently before turning it's eyes back on Sam. "Left me with your sorry ass." It rose up, pulling with it a tarp from under what looked like a crate, from what Sam could see. "But still this life? It's not without it's perks." It smiled widely and something gnawed at Sam's middle with the glint of depravity he could see in it's eyes. "I meet the nicest people." It leaned over, assessing, before it continued. "Maybe I should pay little sis a visit. I mean, it's not like I'm _really_ her brother, right?"

Sam swallowed heavily, feeling a burn in his nose and throat and lungs as he tried not to think of what havoc this monster could wreak on Max's life. The life she was just getting that she deserved. Her real family. Happiness. Not having to watch her back every second of every day.

The thing smiled then and bit at it's lower lip before it quirked an eyebrow, looking more like Dean than Sam had seen so far. "Or maybe little Becky? She closer." It straightened up and the look was lost. "You know Dean'd bang her if he had the chance. Let's see what happens."

Sam barely had time to blink as the thing threw the tarp it was holding over his head. It stank of mildew and rot and other things that Sam didn't want to focus on right then. He could hear it walking away, slightly muffled through the fabric.

"And when I'm done with her, I think I'll head on to Seattle," it chuckled. "'Bout time I moved on. What better way than with little sis?"

And then it was gone.

Sam lost no time in continuing his struggles with his bonds, using the movement of wriggling and twisting his hands free to encourage the loose placement of the tarp to come free. It caught a few times at other parts of his body, each movement assisting gravity before it finally fell all the way down and Sam gasped in the not so much cleaner air. He continued to try to visualize what kind of knots were in the twists of the rope. But as he swore softly, having some difficulty, he heard a noise coming from behind him, coughing. He swiveled his head around, as far as he could as he stilled. That thing wouldn't be back already, would it?

"That better be you Sam and not that freak of nature!" his brother, his real brother snarked out and Sam laughed with relief. Dean had been here the whole time. Obviously unconscious, or he'd have been putting up a hell of a fight hearing that thing talking about Dad and Max like that.

"Yeah, it's me," he confirmed, knowing that Dean would be able to just tell from his voice, the way he talked that it was really him. Just as Sam had sensed right from the first moment that the thing was not Dean. He continued twisting, hoping that the liquid he felt around his wrists was just sweat, but one way or another, they had to get out. "He went to Becca's, looking like you," he explained and heard Dean pause for a moment in his struggles as well.

"Well, he's not stupid," Dean started and Sam rolled his eyes, waiting for it. Even in the midst of all the chaos, trust his brother to say something inappropriate. "He picked the handsome one."

Sam almost didn't want to tell Dean the rest, given how touchy he was about Max over the past few months. That hadn't escaped Sam's notice, not at all. But there was no way either one would leave Max hanging, even given whatever had happened between his siblings. "Yeah well, if we don't stop him now, then he's going after Max."

"What?" the word was so quiet, Sam thought for a moment that he'd imagined it. But before he could say more, Dean's struggles were renewed and there was a crash. And then uneven footsteps and Dean came into view, pulling the rope off of his feet before leaning over his brother as Sam leaned as far forward as the rope around his throat dared. Dean had him untied in a matter of moments, helping him up, focused and furious and Sam was glad his brother was on his side.

That thing was going down.

Going after Dean or Sam, or hell, even Dad was one thing. Or even whatever it had planned for Rebbecca and Sam knew it wasn't of the good. But he knew his brother well enough to know that Dean had connected the dots faster than usual on this score and there was no way that he would allow this depravity to happen to their little sister. No matter how much she could look after herself or how well she could tell whenever supernatural things were around her, Dean would allow nothing to get near her. To do... _that_ to her.

This thing was going down... hard.

Sam shook his head as he climbed into the driver's seat of the Impala. Once they'd taken care of that shape shifter, albeit with more trouble left behind because of it, they'd, as Dean would put it, 'shagged ass' to get out of town and as far away from the news reports as possible.

It was going to be a pain in the ass, with the rest of the known world thinking that Dean was dead. But Sam hadn't wanted to stick around and have the wrong person see his brother and start to wonder about the family. That was yet another complication in life that they didn't need.

As they'd driven, Dean had tried to be kind, in his own way. And Sam, well he hadn't wanted to think too much about it. Yes, he knew exactly what he had given up when he'd left Palo Alto with his brother, to look for their Dad. What was uppermost in his mind, once it had finally been allowed to calm once more was, what had happened to his family when he had left? But Dean was just as closemouthed on the subject as ever. Sam had wondered idly if he might be able to call Max and let slip that he'd been in contact with this shape shifter that had all of Dean's memories and it had mentioned her. He felt a momentary squick at the thought once more of what the thing had obviously wanted from their sister and pushed the thought away. Max was safe and she would never have to be faced with the depravity of her brother trying to force himself on her. The shifter had been right about that thought. It was beyond sick.

But shaking his thoughts clear, Sam knew that Max would know better than to fall for so obvious a ploy as that. But if he was going to have a chance at finding out what was between them, he had to take it now, while Dean was convinced to lay low in the motel they'd stopped at. Mourning like a moron over missing his own funeral. That was a morbid though that Sam could do without. There were enough real funerals in his life...

Sam saw a billboard advertising a fast food restaurant and deciding quickly, changed lanes. Drive through would satisfy his brother's appetite as well as anything else. He turned in to the popular chain restaurant and joined the short dinner time rush of cars as they lined up around the building. He glanced over the menu board when it was his turn, his hand absently reaching for his phone. The thought of calling Max was still there and once he had committed the order in his mind, he checked that the car ahead of him hadn't pulled ahead yet and then looked fully at his cell phone.

There were three missed messages and when he checked, saw that they were all from Seattle numbers. One he thought might have been Cale's number, the other two were from Max. With a sigh, wondering what the hell had happened now, he set about retrieving the first message, from possibly Cale's number. The small relief that he felt on hearing his sister's voice, was completely negated as he winced at her words.

"Sam? Call me! I just saw... Please call me and tell me that you and Dean are all right. Please."

The message stopped and his automated service was giving him options with what to do with the message as Sam swore softly to himself. He hadn't even thought that the news report would make national news that quickly, if at all. That could be the only explanation of why Max had freaked out. And she had mentioned that she saw something?

Pressing buttons to retrieve the next message, he moved the Impala ahead, next in line to order.

"Sam? I really need you to call me. There's something going on here. It'll be okay, but I'm going to have to turn my phone off for a while. So please, just leave me a message so I know that you guys are all right. Or call Kendra and leave a message with her. Please, just call me."

Her tone was even more desperate than the first. And it was worrying Sam, making him feel like even more of a heel that he hadn't even thought to call and check in with her. After all the times that he had chewed her out for not sharing to keep them from worrying and he was now pulling the same crap, albeit unintentionally, on her.

Forced to put the phone down for a moment so he could recite the order, he quickly did so and then retrieved the proper amount to pay for their food.

Once he had paid and received the order and pulled back out onto the street, he lifted the phone to his ear, steeling himself with a deep breath, he held his phone up to his ear for the last message.

"Sam, it's me again," she announced, though it was unnecessary. "I'm really hoping you're okay. It's been... Look, I've had Logan checking on things for me and he didn't find anything with you mentioned, just Dean, so either... Please just call me." The call ended on her sob and Sam fought back the tears suddenly welling in his eyes. Blinking them back, he was aware enough to catch that the last call had been at four that morning.

He wasn't such a bastard that he was going to make her wait for his call and he was hanging up the voice mail option and dialing her number as he drove. He knew that something huge must also be going on if she was reduced to tears by just the thought that something had happened to them. Max was firmly in the camp of making sure she knew all the facts before she reacted when they were hunting. Sam had the idle thought of wondering how Dean would react to the thought of Max in tears and distraught over his apparent death. Sam at this point, just had no clue how his big brother would react to anything having to do with Max anymore.

The phone picked up in the middle of the first ring and Sam had to smile at her frantic tones, despite himself.

"Sam? What happened? Is Dean...?"

"Shh," he soothed immediately as he navigated traffic on his way back to the motel. "We're okay. Both of us. It was a shape shifter that assumed Dean's face."

"Okay," he replied and he could hear how shaky her voice was. And then a little stronger. "Okay, but you're both okay. You're not hurt? Those things are pretty strong."

"They are," Sam agreed mildly. "I take it the news about Dean being a supposed serial killer made national news?"

"Not as far as I'm aware," Max offered quietly. "It may have."

Sam frowned, wondering how she could have known then, but her little sigh told him that she was willing to explain.

"Logan added your names to his watch list," she began. "Just in case something happened and you lost your cells or I couldn't be contacted. As soon as the news blurb came up with Dean's name, he called me."

"Well, as intrusive as that is," Sam grumbled, though he could see the logic behind it, especially as Cale wouldn't know that they would rarely, if ever use their real names, especially if they were in with police or hospital, it was probably a kindly meant gesture for his sister. He once again wondered how deep this Cale person was in with his sibling. "I wish he hadn't gotten you all panicked over nothing. You didn't, did you?"

"At first no, but..."

He waited, following the signs back to the highway that they'd taken the first motel at that they'd found. A few more miles and he could fully concentrate on his family. Wouldn't do to have an accident while driving the beloved Impala. A suspicion was forming in his head and he blurted it out without giving it further thought.

"You haven't heard from Dad, have you?"

"No!" the strangled squawk told him that either she was lying or something else was messing her up really bad. And he wanted to know what it was.

"Then what has you so upset?" he pressed, his foot coming down heavier on the gas pedal than it normally would have. "It's not like we all haven't been in tight spots and been okay."

"I can't be concerned about you guys?" she countered and Sam smiled. Typical of his family. Ask a personal question and it gets turned around. "Seriously, I know how Dean hunts. It gets personal and he gets reckless. And a shifter stealing his face is almost the most personal I can think of. It was just murder, wasn't it? How bad was it?"

Sam winced, thinking once more of the connection it had created with Dean, the things it had said, had planned.

"It was bad, had been in the area for a while," an suddenly he remembered that Max had met Zack on one of her visits. "It was taking on males forms and going after loved ones. It attacked Zack Warren's girlfriend while Zack was with his sister, Rebbecca," he explained and heard her swear softly. She remembered Zack of course.

"That sucks," Max whined softly. "But he's going to be okay?"

"Well yeah," Sam nodded, though she couldn't see him. "The cops are pinning it all on dead Dean." He'd meant the words to lighten the mood, but Max hissed slightly and he winced and apologized swiftly. "Sorry, you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do."

"The worst part," Sam continued ,trying a different vein this time, "was watching it take on Dean's personality. It didn't quite have it right at first, but you know, enough that it would fool anyone else."

"Really?" Max sounded more interested and cautious now and Sam knew he had her definite full attention.

"Yeah," he went on, catching sight of the street sign denoting the motel and he slowed his speed. "It had some sort of psychic connection to Dean, which we think is why it was leaving it's chosen forms alive, aside from creating havoc for them with the cops. It was almost like it was... downloading everything about him. Thoughts, memories, personality traits."

"God, that's disturbing," Max groaned. "Two Deans. Must have been a nightmare."

"Mmm," Sam muttered, non-committedly. "What was weird though, this thing said that it had a really messed up life, but it had nothing on our family. More specifically you and Dean."

"Really?"

He could hear the caution and apprehension in her voice now, scared that this thing had revealed their secrets to Sam and his frustration mounted that they just couldn't tell him, rather than leaving his imagination to roam. But he knew he couldn't torture her like that. If she hadn't been so upset, maybe he would have tried another fishing expedition, but he was too tired and not an ass.

"It makes you wonder though," he sighed, "what was so bad between you and Dean that this thing would consider fucked up?" He rarely swore and grimaced as he pulled into their designated parking spot and cut the engine of the car.

"Everything about us Winchester's is royally screwed up," she quipped, though it seemed very half-hearted. "I thought you knew that Sammy." Rolling his eyes, he retrieved the bags of food and slightly awkward with both hands occupied, climbed out of the car, pushing the door shut with his hip.

Thankfully, his brother was waiting like a caged tiger for his return and had opened the door for him so he wouldn't have to pause to retrieve his room key. He stepped over the thick salt line without incident and noted that his brother relaxed slightly. He thrust the bags at Dean who took them with a questioning look on his face.

"I figured that out ages ago," he retorted turning back to push the door shut.

"Okay then," Max went on. "Then all I'm going to say is that what happened between Dean and I, is just that. And Sam, that's the last time I'm going to say it. Got it?"

Sam let out a huff of air, a little more pissed than they would think he had a right to be. Yes, he understood wanting privacy about certain things, but this was hurting both his siblings and they obviously wouldn't talk to each other and neither talked to him and he knew they sure as hell weren't talking to Dad. He started wondering if he was going to have to get some outside help before this all blew up further than it had. Maybe Pastor Jim would be willing and up for some stubborn Winchester ass counseling sessions.

"I got it," he offered peaceably, hoping that she'd settle down, but he caught the sniffle and his heart broke just a little bit more. "Hey," he tried with the soothing again. "Everything's fine. I'm sure it was stressful, but," he felt the nudge at his shoulder and glanced up to see his brother with his mouth already full of burger, mouthing a question at him. Sam just shoved him off and turned away. "It doesn't seem like something you couldn't handle." Dean pushed back and Sam smacked at his hand. Yes, he was sure Dean did want to know who he was on the phone with, but the drama with Max was all he could deal with now, he didn't need Dean imploding on him as well.

"Look Sam, I can't... I just," she stammered out and then after long moments passed, Sam was thoroughly shocked as a dam seemed to break in his usually imperturbable sister. "I just can't lose any more family."

And then Sam realized just how bad it was for her to be out of the loop on this one. Losing her brother Seth, Zack leaving her, Jess dying, he sucked in his own breath. He kept his face averted from his brother, lest he decided to throw his unwelcome two cents in. "We're fine," he stressed again. "And Dad probably is too," but then something about the way she was crying into the phone, talking about him and her words, that everything there was just... "You're not talking about us, are you. Max, what happened?" he surged from his benign stance, pacing around the room as several realizations settled on him like a coat of suffocating ichor. He knew that he had caught Dean's attention of course, as his brother had stilled now.

There were a few more quiet moments until Max finally seemed to gain control of herself. Her voice was heavy with sadness, laced with fear and pain. "We found Brin."

There was nothing for a moment and Sam quelled the urge to start grasping chunks of hair and yanking as his frustration mounted. "And?" he asked softly, having recognized her sister's name and knowing that couldn't be the end of the story.

"She was in trouble and called Zack," she began to explain, unable to keep the heaviness out of her voice. "He tried to get to her but he was hurt, not too bad, in a hit and run before he could." Sam winced and regretted it as it seemed to shake Dean out of his stupor. "So he came to me and we went to go pick her up."

"Okay," he offered hesitantly, twisting away from his brother so that Dean couldn't try whatever it was he was planning. But nothing happened yet.

"When we finally got to her, we found her in an advanced stage of Werner's syndrome," Max continued and he could hear her voice trying not to break. He quickly ran the word through his mind, not understanding what problem this was, though it definitely seemed medical to him.

"Werner's?" he repeated softly. "I don't..."

"Progeria?" she asked, prompting the recognition and Sam got that, something to do with aging. "Werner's is an extremely rare genetic disorder that causes rapid onset aging and if usually fatal."

"Usually fatal?" he repeated, grabbing onto those words like a lifeline, as he was sure Max must have. He yelped slightly as Dean punched at his arm, much harder. "Hang on." He turned a fearsome scowl on his brother and covered the mouthpiece. "You jerk! Let me get the story here." Dean frowned as Sam turned away again, reaching to the nightstand he was near for the pad of motel stationary stashed within and finding a pen in his jacket, quickly wrote a few things down. "I'm here again," he informed his sister and then shoved the paper at Dean. His brother took it from him and read what Sam had written. _They found Brin and she's sick._

"I got that much dick," he heard his brother mutter.

"Is there anything that can be done?" Sam asked gently then, knowing that the 'usually' she had used, must mean there was something more.

"When we found her, she looked like an old woman," Max sighed, her voice slightly clearer now that she'd had a moment. "There's... an experimental surgery. But that doesn't matter. We're going to lose her."

"Max," he sighed. He didn't know what to say. He had no idea and no experience whatsoever with a problem like this and he didn't know where to start. Well, first things first. "Does she not want surgery?"

"She does," Max confirmed and Sam relaxed just infinitesimally. "The problem is surviving the flight to the facility, surviving the surgery..."

"Do you know the odds?" was his next question.

"Really high, from what I understand," Max answered, "though it's not been done on someone with as advanced a case as Brin's. But _he_ was sure it could be done. Anyway, Brin decided to do it. She wants to live Sam."

"I can understand that," he offered agreeably. Brin had to be around Max's, their age. She had the rest of her life ahead of her if she could make it through this. He pondered momentarily who this "he" was, but decided it wasn't important at the moment.

"But what kind of life is she going to have after?" Max declared miserably and Sam was puzzled again.

"What does that mean?" he wondered. "Is this going to be a continual problem?"

"No," Max spoke softly. "But with these cases... Sam her central nervous system was so catastrophically damaged and with what they've found with this surgery, if she makes it through, it's almost one hundred percent certain that she won't be herself anymore."

"Oh my God," he grunted as he understood what Max was getting at. Brain surgery at any point was risky, but this was a level that was going to alter everything about a person so they weren't recognizable anymore? "So you're going to lose her," he reaffirmed and he heard another sniffle from Max and restless fidgeting from Dean who had seemed to completely forgotten about his meal.

"Yeah, pretty much," Max conformed. "She won't be my sister anymore. She won't remember us. Everything that made her Brin will just be gone."

"Are you sure about that?" Sam demanded suddenly. "I mean, who told you about this surgery? Cale?"

"No," her reply was so soft, so weak. "It doesn't matter Sam. I can trust this intel, well as much as I can trust anything from _Deck_."

There was that inflection again. Someone from her past maybe, given that she knew him. It certainly wasn't anyone recent or he was hoping that he would have heard about it. "Who is Deck?" he asked gently.

"_Deck_ is just... _Deck_," she answered maddeningly, but Sam, used to dealing with much worse, was already garnering clues about this mystery man's possible identity. "He can help Brin. She wants to live. End of story."

"Okay," Sam agreed, letting this portion of things drop. Understanding now where her panic stemmed from and her concerns and her loss, it was all coming together. "I'm glad you were able to respect her decision, to help her. At least you won't have lost your memories of her."

"That's true," Max agreed and Sam then heard something in the background on her end. "Shoot, I need to get going Sam. I'm glad you called though. Like I said, everything here has been, really... I just needed to know you guys were okay."

"All right," Sam knew better than to push an precariously emotioned Max further. "And I'm sorry I didn't answer or get back to you sooner. Call me when you can, we'll be on the road again soon."

"Okay," Max answered sweetly. "Oh, and kick your brother's ass for not taking that thing out earlier."

Sam had to laugh at that. "What, I don't get any of the blame?"

"If it had taken your face, and done all that leaving you holding the blame, you can sure as hell bet that Dean would be taking a strip out of your hide!"

"You're right," he said through his chuckles. "Okay, I'll talk to you soon." They hung up and Sam set his phone on the nightstand before turning to regard his brother. "Max sends her love," he informed his brother blithely and was startled at the little jerk Dean gave before he got himself under control again.

"She did, huh?" Dean remarked before attacking his food again that had laid forgotten for the majority of Sam and Max's conversation.

"Well, she told me to kick your ass for not taking out the shifter sooner," Sam grinned, "but I knew what she meant."

"Uh huh," Dean drawled and wiped one hand on his jeans before scooping up some fries. Sam moved to the table that held their food and pulled out his own meal before taking a seat. "So what the hell is she into now?"

Sam recounted their conversation as close to word for word as he could, leaving Dean looking a little sick and as close to sorrowful as he could, which was a look that Sam couldn't handle. It was too close, too painful, too similar. He tried to shake it off as Dean was muttering about researching this, just in case it wasn't naturally occurring. Even going so far as to retrieving Dad's journal and thumbing through it, convinced that their father had run across a spirit that could be accused of something like this. Well, at least it showed that Dean cared.

"You can look all you like," Sam pondered as he contemplated his own fries and ketchup, "but I really doubt it's our stuff. Sounds plain old medical to me."

"I guess," Dean huffed and threw the cover closed and shoved the journal away.

"What I want to know," Sam declared, eying his brother, who had perked up at Sam's authoritative tone, "is who Deck is?" Dean looked him over, his lips pursed and nodded once. Seemed like the brothers were on the same page once more.

John stared at the red light ahead of him morosely. He'd been on the trail of this bastard for longer than he cared to think about and even though it all seemed to be coming to a head, at long last, there were still fears, still gut clenching worries that assailed him. He wanted to laugh, knowing that so many people thought of him as a hard assed son of a bitch who took no prisoners, ruled his family with an iron fist. But if they really knew him, they'd know his weaknesses.

And right now, he was nearing one of those weaknesses with alarming rapidity. He had debated about this move for days before committing to it. He'd planned and reconned as much as possible before going in. And he knew that for all that planning, simple coincidence, bad luck, karma, whatever one wanted to call it, it could rear up and bite him in the ass at any moment.

But there was no help for it.

He started drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. This light was taking forever. Casing the area around him, trying to be ever vigilant in a fight that was taking heavier tolls with each passing day, John noticed a young kid, the only pedestrian out in the light misting rain, was plastering a nearby electric pole with papers. As soon as he moved, John glanced fairly dismissively at the paper before shock dragged him back for a peering stare. He heard the car behind him blare it's horn and reflexively entered the intersection of the green light after checking that his way was clear.

He found the first available parking spot and not bothering locking up his truck, hurried back to the pole. Glancing around and finding no overt witnesses, he reached up and yanked down the just posted sheet of paper. He stuffed it into an inside coat pocket before jogging back to his truck. Once safely inside, he removed the paper and stared in shock at it. He shouldn't have been shocked, really. They'd all had trouble like this. Hell, Dean had just been in much more hot water recently, but this...

First Dean. Now Max.

His daughter was wanted for murder and unlike what the authorities thought about Dean, Max was very much alive. And very much in trouble.


	34. Darker Games

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to NC-17 for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Time line/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural time line. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: Dean/ Max, other canon pairings

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Thirty-four

Darker Games

John strode purposefully into the motel room that he had booked for himself. He knew better for all his years of hunting, to look like he was fleeing, even though in a way he was. He wanted to be off the streets as soon as possible. The feeling had been growing, the closer he got to Seattle and had doubly intensified when he had discovered the slip of paper that was now slightly crumpled in his hand.

He threw his duffel bag on the bed closest to the door and instead of studying further the picture, as he wanted to do, he let it flutter down beside the bag. He busied himself with rote, but necessary precautions, removing from his bag, his salt and other forms of physical wards to line the room with. Only once he had completed that ritual, would he settle down enough to contemplate what else was happening in his very narrow world.

It didn't take him long before he was perched on the edge of the bed, smoothing out the rumpled paper. He studied it in meticulous detail. The description and sketching of Max was way too close to the reality for his comfort. But what puzzled him was that the poster gave no indication of who was actually looking for her. Usually, in these cases, the office of the local police force was listed, or if it were a state of federal case, a hot line number was included. There was certainly a number listed but John wasn't familiar enough with Washington State numbers to tell if it was a local number with the area code or a statewide line. Pursing his lips as he studied it, he wondered if he could persuade his informant to add a little bonus legwork into the deal. Deciding that it couldn't hurt anything to ask, John retrieved his cell phone. Taking his usual precautions, he dialed the number from memory and waited for the call to be picked up.

"It's me," he announced heavily.

"Hey J," the voice on the other end greeted, but John could hear that he wasn't exactly pleased to be contacted. "Look man, I've been doing the digging you asked me too, but I don't have anything solid yet."

"I'm not surprised," John sighed resignedly. "I'm a little off schedule here."

"So you just checkin' in then?" his friend of questionable status asked, sounding vaguely relieved.

"No," John was clear on that. "But something else has occurred that I need to to get confirmation on."

"And..." the voice seemed wary. "What is it worth to you?"

"Your life," John growled out instantly and silence reigned immediately after.

"Hey look, I told you that I'm not doin' that anymore," the voice sighed. "I only meant, is this about what we talked about before?"

"It's a separate matter," was all John would allow.

"Ooo-kay," the voice sighed. "The point I'm trying to get at here is; I'm seriously out of this crap. I'm trying to move on. And I understand the work you're trying to do. That's why I'm willing to help. But I can't do anything else. You understand?"

John rolled his eyes. Usually, in his estimation, once a petty little snitch, always a petty little snitch. "I got it," he snarked back. "And I'm not asking you to turn over state secrets. I just want to know some details about a current case. It was just quicker to ask you than to do it myself, okay?" he ended gruffly, but it was because of the subject of the inquiry and not any softening of feelings towards his informant.

"Okay, I can do that," the man supplied. "What details can you give me? Names, dates, what?"

And with a modicum of relief, John related what he had found with the wanted poster and his worries and suspicions about it. To his relief, his contact never asked once why John had a connection to the girl. He just promised to contact him once he had the information requested and the pair hung up.

He was startled when it wasn't even twenty minutes later when his phone rang and glancing at the call screen, saw that it was his informant. Rolling his eyes, thinking the man probably had come up with reasons that he couldn't do this, he sighed heavily before answering.

"What have you got?" he demanded, no greeting or pleasantry passing his lips.

"She's wanted for the murder of a Private Investigator by the name of Vogelsang," his contact informed him with no preamble.

John swore softly and then bit the tip of his tongue. He knew that name well. It was the name of the PI that Max had hired. Things started coming together in his mind. But his contact was continuing, so he cleared his mind to hear what other details he might share.

"There was no murder weapon at the scene," he went on. "So maybe..."

"Maybe what?" John asked.

"Well," the voice sighed, "they've got the bullet to type and match so-!"

"Wait! Bullet?" John demanded, an arc of relief coursing through him. Of course it wouldn't be Max. She would never touch a gun, not even when her own life was in peril.

"Yeah," the man sounded puzzled. "Vogelsang was done professionally. Single bullet to the brain. I think the only reason they want her is because she was a client of his, probably the last one to talk to him before this went down. And according to what I got, information off the deceased indicated that they were meeting right around the time of his death."

"Shit," John cursed, knowing that was definitely a black mark for Max. The cops wouldn't know her innocence like her family would.

"Pretty much everything is circumstantial," the man continued, though he didn't sound pleased at all. "She gets a good lawyer and an alibi and she'll come out of this mess just fine."

"Yeah, yeah," John agreed, frowning. He could only hope that Max had been somewhere very public and very much engaged with other people at the time of the man's death.

"J?" his contact sounded hesitant and John's interest piqued. Something occurred to him in an instant.

"This wasn't common knowledge, was it?" he demanded suddenly. "The information about the bullet?"

"No it wasn't," the other agreed mildly. That made John suspicious. And when a Winchester got suspicious...

"So why the change of heart?" he demanded bluntly. "Not half an hour ago you were all woe is me, can't do this crap anymore, but now you're singing. Why?" His heart stuttered in his chest as he glanced warily around the room. Had his contact somehow, in some way, betrayed him?

"Because Maxie is a good girl," the other man said softly and John's eyes went wide.

"How do you know my-!" he bit the words off before they could be sounded. "You know Max?" he asked instead.

"I do," the voice agreed quietly but became impassioned the longer he talked. "She saved my ass J. I could have lost everything and she saved me. Even given what was going down. She didn't have to do that. She's what made me reconsider everything. Like I said before, I don't mind parting with info that might help save someone's life. But the bribes? All that crap? I'm done with it."

The strength of this declaration rang true in John's ears and he found himself smiling. "I believe you," he offered simply and with a huff, the other man chuckled.

"I'm glad," he mumbled. "So if you have any intention of causing trouble for her, I'll have you up on any spurious charge I can come up with in a heartbeat!"

John's eyes widened. Not because he'd been threatened. That was an all too common occurrence in his life. It was more that the man was this loyal to his daughter. He allowed himself a soft smile. He had seen this before. People just naturally gravitated to Max, believing in her, because she believed in some greater good. He would have told his contact the connection that Max and he had, but some sense told him that it was better off in the long run to hide that as much as possible. After all, look what had happened to Sam's girlfriend. His heart clenched as he thought of it, in relation to himself, Mary, to Sam. He couldn't go through that pain again with Max. None of them could.

"I'm not gonna touch the girl," he assured his friend quietly. "I just needed to make sure that this wasn't touching on something else that was going down."

"Yeah, okay," there was so much more relief evident now and John wondered if he could get the story behind the support Max got. "Well, I gotta go get ready for my shift and my girlfriend just got here."

That was a surprise to John, since the last he'd heard, the old man was just as lonely as he in that department. "Okay," he agreed, but before hanging up spoke again. "Thanks a lot Walter. I really do appreciate your help."

"Yeah J. I'll let you know anything else I find out."

And with that, the call was disconnected.

Even though John had Walter's somewhat hesitant assurance that Max should be okay with these charges leveled at her, John realized that it was at the moment, just wishful thinking. The wanted poster definitely stated murder. There was no, _wanted for questioning in connection to_ aspect here at all. Even though that was Walter had told him. And on some level, he knew that the wording of the poster was to attract attention, along with the reward listed for any information leading to an arrest. It was a common enough ploy. The police forces and detectives couldn't do it all themselves. That's were the network of snitches and informants came into play and some days, the general populace as well. The fact of the matter was, if the cops didn't have anythings solid on Max, but she could give them any more information about Vogelsang, they'd be happy. There'd be no arrest and no reward payout. But if Max was the culprit, then they had their perp and slush funds set up for this crap would cover the reward. And on the up side, papering the streets with posters that cost little to produce was a hell of a lot cheaper than flooding the street with officers.

But still, that niggling pain in his heart, because it was one of his kids involved... John just couldn't ignore this. Like how he couldn't ignore when that shifter had taken on Dean's persona and committed those atrocities. The moment word had come his way, John had been on his way, but the boys had taken care of business before he'd made it two states. So he'd gone back to his own hunt, relieved in some ways that he hadn't had to swoop in. Yeah, the situation sucked, authorities believing Dean dead. John almost wanted to chuckle macabrely at that, but refrained. Max on the other hand, he knew she would not walk away. She had put down roots and the matter of being falsely accused of murder and with a gun, would put her hackles up and cause her to dig in.

And so, not having faith in the system, from long years of hard experience, John found himself ducking into one of the local stations. Really, he only meant to slip into the back and pick himself up some information, namely where they were on the investigation and the frequency that the cops were using on their scanners. There had been too many channels for John to be able to properly decipher which one to tune into on his illegal scanner.

And that was how John came to be half hidden in the shadows of the mostly empty office. Mostly empty because there were a few people, personnel and some officers moving through the area. And also one detective, a young Asian man in his mid to late thirties. He was perched on his desk and John silently swore when he saw that the Detective was holding a copy of Max's poster.

Affecting a casual lean against the wall he was by, John knew the best way of not being noticed, was to look like he belonged. Luckily it had been easy enough to snag a file folder and pretend he was looking through the information. He could always pretend to be in informant if he had to. As long as they didn't try to search him, which was a very highly unlikely scenario, then he was fine. There were no outstanding warrants for any of his aliases in Washington state.

As he focused his mind and senses, he was able to filter out the background noise of the office, thankful that it was pretty quiet away from the booking desk. Finally he heard what it was he wanted.

"...does seem kind of fishy," a male voice was saying and there was no answer, so John felt he had pegged the Asian male on the phone. "Well, this came from the Army, not police. We've been authorized to work with them, in conjunction, but the actual take down will be theirs."

John furrowed his brows at that, a little confused. Yes the police and army would work in conjunction for certain things, but a hunt for a suspect? Usually they'd just have police cordon off an area while Military Police made the searches. He frowned and listened harder.

"Yeah, the details they gave us are pretty sketchy," the detective continued. "It's mostly conjecture, from what I can see." There was a pause and then an amused chuckle. "Logan, you don't have to convince me. You say she didn't do it, she didn't do it."

The words were said forcibly enough that John breathed out a soft sigh of relief. Score one for them. The cops actually weren't complete dumb asses who ran around with limited information getting in over their heads and screwing over anybody else. He knew that he didn't really feel that way, but he'd had too many run ins with officers that had an overinflated sense of their own power and job description to have as much faith in them as he used to. That decided, John thought a moment on who the detective was speaking with. He had said Logan. Was that possibly the man that Max had been working for on the side that had been helping her look for her family? John was pretty sure at this moment that it was. Biting at his lower lip, he was about to slip away, but the detective in the main room, proved to be too useful a gold mine.

"Hang on Logan," the detictive spoke and John chanced a glance around the slight corner. The male was holding the phone against his shoulder as he half turned to speak to someone behind him. "Marnie? What's the latest on the pursuit of the female perp? Channel fourteen."

John smirked. Now he knew what else he had been looking for. He waited a moment, because the detective definitely said pursuit, so to his knowledge, someone had either called her in or the cops had spotted her. There was some rustling and then the woman, presumably Marnie, answered.

"Detective Sung? They've spotted the suspect in south market," the woman informed her multiple, though unknown to the others, audience. "They've got the perimeter set up and the MP's are moving in for the stall to stall search."

"Thanks Marnie," the now named Detective Sung grunted and turned his attention back to his call. "Logan?"

But John didn't wait for anything more. He had more than enough information. He slipped out of the building, just as unnoticed as when he had gone in. Again, he didn't flee to his truck but it was still close. Once firmly ensconced inside, he simultaneously started the truck while reaching for his scanner. As he pulled out of his parking spot, careful to be mindful of traffic laws, wouldn't do to be pulled over now, he tuned to channel fourteen and almost immediately hit pay dirt.

"Perimeter established," came a gruff male voice, muffled slightly by static and crackling. John's eyes constantly scanned the street as he tried to remember the quickest way to market place. He wasn't as familiar as Seattle as he should be for something like this.

"Moving in," came another voice over the line. And it was followed almost immediately by another.

"Sector one clear, moving on to sector two, over?"

"Roger that."

It continue on like that, section by section, with some reports of civilians that hadn't been moved out before the perimeter had been established. Id's were checked and people were moved to a holding area until the search was done.

But then the scenario changed.

"Suspect sighted!" came a younger sounding voice excitedly over the line. "Sector 8, Korean food stall!"

It wouldn't have been so bad, had John not heard the very distinctive, to him at least, sound of officers yelling for her to freeze and several pops of staccato gun fire.

"Hold your fire!" someone, older sounding, pissed off, by the clipped, harsh feel to the words, was yelling. "I repeat, cease fire!"

There were a few heart pounding moments as John picked up speed where he could, finally seeing the street sign he needed, signaling his turn. And then, whomever had been yelling just moments before, was obviously as on tenterhooks as John was.

"Report!" the voice barked out.

"Sir, she got away," another voice, the young sounding one announced.

"What?" the tone was... disbelieving, but also, slightly amused?

"She used some sort of rappel hook and scaffolding sir. She's fled the scene and entered a blue vehicle. Late '90's Aztek, plates unknown. No one got a good look at it sir. Heading east on Market Way. Do we pursue?"

"Yes god damn it! Go! Go!"

John glanced up, wanting to laugh as the very vehicle they had just produced a description of went screaming past him, going the opposite way as he. John only had a quick glance to see a male driving and his daughter ducked down in the front seat, while he thought there may have been another person in the back seat.

Knowing that she was getting away, so far, was a relief, but he had no idea if this driver, whoever it was, could lose a tail, let alone a whole pursuit of cops and MP's. And then luck turned his way again as he debated only momentarily if he should follow as well. He was at an intersection and he could hear the whine of sirens in the distance. Being in the left lane for a strictly verboten u-turn, inspiration struck John. He saw the Aztek take a sharp turn a few blocks down. He eased out as much as he could into the intersection without endangering himself too much. And as the light turned yellow and seemed to hover in that moment of probably going to red, but no one could be sure, he completed a hurried left turn to the next block, because well, it was illegal and dangerous to stay in the intersection like he had been, really.

And of course, the timing of it was perfectly beautiful, as it caused the lead chase cars to slam on their breaks lest they plow into John's truck. Acting panicked, he managed to spin the truck around and stall out his engine, while effectively cutting off the second car that had started to move around the first SUV. John affected a dumbfounded look as the officers got themselves together and moved around him. He heard a car door slam and glanced up to see a police officer pulled up next to him. He grimaced and tried turning the engine over, but let the ignition go before it caught. And then deftly turned the scanner down and tucked it under his coat, just as the office rapped on his window.

John quickly rolled down the window as the officer leaned down and in slightly.

"Are you injured sir?" was his first question and John shook his head, acting rattled, though it was more of a belated adrenaline rush.

"No sir," he answered honestly. "Sorry, I was trying to clear the intersection and my truck stalled out."

"All right," the officer nodded. "Try it again, we need to get you out of the way."

John nodded as well and tried the engine again, knowing that it would be fine. When the engine roared to life he let his body deflate in seeming relief. "Thank you officer," he smiled slightly. The man just grimaced at him.

"If you're ever in that situation again, just stay put, okay?" He waited for John's nod and then the officer stepped back. "Go ahead now. Drive safe."

"You too sir," John replied as he eased the truck back into the proper direction and continued what would have been his intended left turn. The moment the officer was out of his rear view mirror sights, John was rolling the window back up and reaching for the scanner. His sigh of relief was real this time as he listened.

"Do you have them?" the gruff angry voice was asking.

"Sorry sir. We lost them." There was a pause. "Should we set up the barricades?"

"We have no idea which way they are going? And not enough manpower for a city wide permieter lockdown?" the male didn't waste time waiting for an answer. At least not over the scanner. "It's pointless at this stage. She'll go to ground. And Seattle PD is getting antsy with us. Call off the search. For now."

John grinned tightly. Whoever the hell this yahoo was, he had things right. He had trained his children well. Max would do exactly as he had said, go to ground. She would have places to hide until either the heat was off, her innocence proven or she would hopefully find one of their many contacts to protect her. The strings around John's heart were tugged as he wondered if maybe, just possibly, she might call the boys for help. He knew they would be there for her in a heartbeat. And while the father in him wanted that most of all, to help heal this rift between Dean and Max and for Sam to have someone there to help him deal with Jessica's loss, the hunter in him protested. Max was safe so far. The boys were hunting and if he could keep her from that, as long as it were possible, he would.

Decided, the best course of action as father and hunter, John debated sending her a text message. But the demon had tracked him, using his technology before and he knew better than to risk that now. It was time to get the hell out of dodge. It wouldn't be the first or last time. He could grab his things from the motel and head up the road and find another place. Walter would still be able to contact him and he could maybe, just maybe take a momentary break. Lord knew he needed it after today.

"Huh," Max sighed as Logan pressed his foot on the accelerator of his sporty little Aztek that he had affectionately nicknamed Bessie.

"What Max?" Zack immediately piped up from the back seat.

"Oh, it's nothing," Max immediately shook her head. "Just thought I saw something. Doesn't apply." It was her way of telling him that it had nothing to do with the situation at hand and as expected, Zack immediately dropped the line of questioning. But while it may have nothing to do with the ridiculous situation she had found herself in this day, when she had caught sight of the wanted posters that obviously Lydecker had sent out after the debacle with Brin; it was still important to her. She could have sworn that she had seen a black truck, just like the one John drove. But she had dismissed it almost the moment she had thought it. If John were in Seattle, he would have let her know. She was sure of that much.

Once Logan completed another few turns and was able to get into a decent flow of traffic, heading north out of the city, was Max able to relax and return to her seat, from her cramped position on the floor. She did keep her Jam Pony baseball cap on, partially shielding her face in case anybody caught a glimpse of her in the vehicle. And even as she was going over in her mind, racing ahead to what she would need to do to lay low, go to ground, her pager went off. She glanced at the number, recognizing it as the pay phone in the Jam Pony headquarters. She sighed, knowing that she wouldn't be able to call Cindy back and let her know what was going on.

The noise had attracted the attention of the males in the car. "Cindy," she explained, glancing at Logan. Both he and Zack nodded.

"I can call her at home once we get back," Logan suggested. "If that's okay."

"Just as long as you keep your mouth shut about where Max is," Zack warned and Max rolled her eyes. Her big brother, just another of the paranoid protective males in her life.

"You're gonna have to," she sighed. "I left my cell at home." And so realizing, she wanted to grimace. If any of her co-workers saw that poster, well, she wanted to believe that none of them would sell her out, but man, in this day and age, it was a pretty penny the cops were offering for information on her. And she wasn't so worried about herself, but the Winchesters information was in there and that wasn't something that any of them liked to share with the authorities. She turned to Logan and biting at her lip, huffed out an annoyed sigh.

"Is there any way I could borrow your phone?" she asked as sweetly as she could.

Logan was reaching into his inner coat pocket before she even got the entire sentence out. He held it out to her even as Zack protested.

"Can it bro," Max sighed. "I know what I'm doing."

"I'm not so sure about that," he snorted, leaning forward between the seats trying to see the number she dialed. "Who're you calling?"

"Why does it matter?" she snarked back quietly. "It's just me bein' sentimental, right?" The dig obviously got to him as his face hardened and her thumb nimbly completed dialing Sam's number from memory. She held the phone up to her ear, averting her face as much as possible from the others.

"Dude," Dean called, nudging at Sam's shoulder. Sam had been sleeping, almost from the moment they climbed into the car and had begun the drive to their next job. Dean was about ready to pull over at the next gas station he found and figured that Sam would need to eat something, since breakfast had consisted of a grande coffee and nothing else for the big lunk.

When the sign denoting that the next station was four miles down the road, Dean had started calculating at what mile he should start the niggling little process he had developed for an easy wake up, rather than the funny as hell, make Sam shoot straight up in his seat, panicking like all get out. He wasn't that cruel, right now anyway. So as they neared the mile marker sign, and instead Sam's cell began to ring, he figured it was as good as any excuse. A couple more less than gentle nudges and Sam was shaking his head, trying to focus. The phone rang again and Sam's puzzled features drew a little more focus.

"Phone man," Dean added helpfully. Sam nodded around a yawn as he reached into his coat pocket to retrieve it. He glanced at the screen and frowned. He flipped it open and held it up to his ear.

"Hello?" he asked carefully, which immediately told Dean that Sam didn't recognize the number. But his face cleared after a moment. "Hey. What's up?" He turned slightly in his seat to mouth the words '_it's Max,'_ to Dean and Dean raised one eyebrow. Either his brother was so sleep addled he hadn't recognized the number, which was, he immediately realized, the wrong explanation. He knew just as well as Sam the ring tone that denoted a call from Max. So that must have meant she was calling from another phone. There could of course, be numerous explanations for that. But he worried all the same. Max wouldn't use any old phone to call them unless something was going down. With the patience he had started developing over the years of dealing with this, he waited for Sam to do his little info gathering session, rather than butting in.

Sam, ignoring his brother, was completely tuned into the phone call with Max. Being woken up before he was obviously ready had disoriented him enough that he could only deal with one thing at the moment.

"Yeah, I know I promised that I'd call," Max was saying. "And I forgot my phone at home, so I'm borrowing Logan's."

"Okay," Sam nodded. So far, so reasonable. "What's up?"

"Well, I just thought I'd give you guys a heads up," Max chuckled and Sam, normally would have been alerted right there with that forced tone in her voice. "I decided to go ahead and book it."

His eyes scrunched up momentarily as he pushed another yawn down and tried stretching his back out a little, sore from sleeping hunched in the car as he had been. And suddenly it dawned on him what she was saying. "You're leaving Seattle?" he demanded, the suddenness and strangeness of her turn around had the effect of a glass of cold water being dumped over his head. He could feel, not needing to see that Dean had whipped his head around in apparent shock at those words.

"I am," she confirmed. "Turns out Dean and I have even more in common now." That puzzled Sam and he wondered to what she was referring. "Although I have to say that my sketch is a helluva lot prettier than his."

Her sketch? Sam's mind raced and then, recalling the sketch that police had sent out when the shape shifter had taken on Dean's face to go after Becky Warren. "Damn it," he sighed and then stiffened. He ignored Dean's soft entreaties to find out what was going on. "It wasn't a...?" he began asking but stopped because he didn't want his older brother flying off the handle as he knew he would if Dean even had a hint of suspicion that there was something supernatural after his family. Well, more than the usual scrapes they found themselves in.

"No, nothing like that," Max assured him. "Just the cops being their usual dickish, moronic selves."

"Okay," Sam sighed and then winced as something else occurred to him. "It didn't have anything to do with Logan, did it?" He knew even as he asked that it was a powder keg ready to go off, whether Cale was involved or not.

"Actually he," Max replied, fairly calmly for her, "along with Zack, just saved my ass." Sam heard some male protests and the phone muffled while Max hissed something back and he wanted to smile at a brother other than him or Dean getting their ass chewed out by her. A small chuckle did escape him and he smirked at Dean for a second who was looking completely annoyed once again. But then she was back. "Anyway, we're heading out. I just didn't want you to worry when I couldn't call, since I left my cell at my apartment. Would you be able to do me a favor?"

"What's that?" Sam replied instantly.

"Could one of you call Dad's phone and let him know?" she asked softly and there was another annoyed hiss on her end that she was apparently going to ignore this time. "I don't have his number handy, since it's programmed in."

Sam's stomach dropped a little as he realized what she was telling him. The situation she was in was hot enough that she had to bug out of town without being able to clear her name for whatever was going on. The information she had, namely their contact info and who knew what else, was on her phone. And she didn't have it. There was the possibility that the cops knew who she was and would be able to search her apartment. Basically, Max was going to disappear and Sam knew that he was damn lucky that he was even getting this much of a heads up.

"Yeah," he whispered out, his throat suddenly dry. He knew, intellectually, of course, that Max could take care of herself. She had proven that well enough over the years. And she had Cale, who hadn't scored many brownie points in Sam and Dean's books, but also her brother Zack to watch over her. But to Sam it just wasn't the same. "Yeah," he repeated, a little stronger this time. "We can do that."

"Okay," she breathed out and he could hear the relief in her voice. "If I can, I'll leave word with friends, okay?" Sam was nodding as she said that. He knew, as anyone who knew Max really well, was aware that she had all their numbers and information memorized. Saying that she hadn't Dad's number wasn't about that. She just knew that John would not answer or respond to an unknown number. So her calling from anyone else's phone would be pointless.

"All right," Sam agreed. "You take care of yourself Maxie," he offered, almost warning at the same time.

"Promise," she chuckled and he could just see the smile on her face, in his mind as she said it. "Love you and you take care too."

"Promise," he repeated. "Love you too."

The call disconnected and Sam hung up his phone as well. The afternoon, so calm and mild and like many others before it, seemed to have gone to hell in just a few words and Sam was so caught up in realizing how drastically things had changed in just moments, that he was caught off guard again, when Dean suddenly yanked the car off the road.

"Dude! What the hell?" Sam barked out as he braced his hands on the dashboard as the Impala skidded slightly in the grass and dirt of the fairly shallow ditch. But Dean had already thrown the car into park and turned himself completely in his seat.

"What the hell is going on Sam?" Dean barked out and Sam's eyes widened. He hadn't seen this dangerous intensity in his brother's eyes since... well since the last time Sam had been in imminent danger. Or, his mind quickly supplied, when he had told Dean that the shifter had plans to go after Max in Seattle. Filing that information away, of course finding it completely natural, Sam wondered what had bothered his brother to this extent in the side of the conversation with Max that Dean would have heard. But instead of trying to figure that out, because it would come to him eventually, he answered.

"Max is in trouble, Cale and Zack got her out of whatever situation she's in," Sam recounted quickly, knowing this was definitely not a time to play games with his brother. "She's going to ground, we need to ditch our phones so the cops can't track us and cause trouble, and we need to warn Dad about the same. And if she can, she'll leave words with friends," he finished even as he was reaching for his laptop, hoping that he was in range of a cellular tower to tap into with his phone. He wanted to know exactly the extent of Max's trouble, as apparently, Dean did as he heard his brother cursing under his breath.

"How bad is it?" Dean finally asked, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other clenching at the steering wheel. Sam wondered if Dean was debating heading up to Seattle right now. He would of course, point out that it would be useless, as they had no clue where Cale and Zack were taking her, or even if she would stay with them or go off by herself.

He powered up the laptop and luck was with him as he was able to start searching the Washington databases for information on his sister. Luckily, he saw, there was nothing under her name or any of the aliases that she used. At least any that Sam was aware of.

So he broadened the search, looking for new wanted posters, explaining slightly under his breath what he'd found so far. He knew Dean would either grab for the laptop himself or punch the information out of his shoulder if he didn't. As it was, knowing nothing yet, wasn't helping Dean calm down.

"Wanted posters Sammy?" his brother sounded extremely irritated.

"She said that you guys had more in common now," Sam explained quickly. "And that her sketch was prettier than yours." And even as he told him that, he found what he was looking for. There it was, a clear picture of his sister, even if it was sketched in pencil, black and white, Max wanted for the murder of a police informant. In his frustration, Sam shoved the computer a little harder than he'd meant, spinning it around so that Dean could see as well. With his elbow resting on the car door, he covered his eyes, throat swallowing convulsively.

"Did she say why?" Dean asked quietly. Sam focused on that, how quiet his brother's voice was. "Cause we don't know the whole situation here, obviously." It was odd, that tone of voice and Sam turned his head to regard his brother. When had it become Dean being reasonable about this and Sam the emotional one? Well, there had been occasions, but given the past few years, Sam would have through that Dean would be having a major freak out over this.

"She didn't," Sam agreed. "and it could have been anything, couldn't it?" There were myriad possibilities.

"And even if it was just what this says," Dean sighed heavily, "Max wouldn't do that. Not without just cause."

"She wouldn't," Sam agreed again. Sitting up straighter now, Sam reached for the computer. He wondered if there was any way he could get more information, but that would require some hacking that he wasn't sure he'd be able to accomplish. He debated calling Kendra and seeing if he could convince her to get rid of Max's phone or even just deleting her contacts list. But that would require explaining some things he'd rather not drag the girl into. "You should call Dad," Sam decided. If their father was going to listen to a message from them, better that it come from the son he still liked.

"Yeah, I'll do that," Dean sighed, apparently reaching a decision as he put the car back into drive and eased the Impala back out onto the highway.

"Thanks," Max smiled sadly after she had hung up the phone and passed it back to Logan. He had just smiled tightly and nodded before slipping the phone back into the pocket it had come from.

"Who were you talking to?" Zack demanded instantly.

"The Winchester's," Max replied broadly, hiding a grin at her big brother's expense. She exchanged a brief glance with Logan, who was trying to do the same. He may not have had siblings, but he certainly seemed to understand the dynamic, if the look on his face was any indication.

"And they would be?" Zack definitely sounded annoyed and Max sighed.

"Not too long after we escaped," she began, "I bugged out of a bad situation with a foster family. I was on the highway and John tried to avoid hitting a deer and clipped me instead. He tried to help, ended up taking me into town and calling a friend of his to check me over. When he found out I didn't have anywhere to go and the situation I had been in, he and his boys pretty much adopted me right then and there. I stayed with them until a couple years ago, when I decided to head up here."

"You stayed with them that long?" Logan asked, sounding impressed.

"That was dangerous Maxie," Zack rumbled.

"You never found me in all that time," Max snarked back, knowing instinctively that she would score a point there.

"And they never noticed anything... strange?" Logan wondered, eying her a little in a way that Max was wary of. She shrugged.

"They didn't really consider themselves normal either," she offered. "John was pretty much a modern day nomad, going from job to job, dragging us along. I mean, seriously, the longest we stayed anywhere was for nine months, so that Dean could have his senior year in one school."

"This is the same Dean that..." Logan began and then cut himself off as his eyes darted to the rear view mirror and Zack's intensely interested look.

"I explained about that Logan," Max sighed tiredly. That had taken a lot of fast talking on her part to explain to Logan, that a serial killer had perfected the art of mimicking different males in order to infiltrate their lives and fulfill the killer's sick little fantasies. Logan had seemed to accept this, seeing's how he had talked to Sam, while Sam had been with Dean in a location that was hundreds of miles away from St. Louis, when the first murder had occurred. It was spurious evidence of course, but Logan seemed fine with it.

"Dean's got a record?" Zack inferred and wasn't too far off the mark. Of course, with Max's comment about her sketch for her wanted poster, that inference was easy to gt to.

"Room to talk pot?" Max teased, hoping they'd drop the line of inquiry. It seemed to work as Logan sighed and Zack rolled his eyes. And then Logan was reaching for the radio and finding the station he was looking for, the car was filled with the soft strains of Mozart and conversation was left behind.

It was about a half hour later, that they finally arrived at Logan's' family cabin. It was slightly more rustic than Max would have thought it would be and more opulant than Zack had been expecting. But after a sneering glance at Logan, Zack had shrugged it off and exited the car with nary a word to the man. Max watched as he moved around the front of the Aztek, shouldering the simple backpack of supplies he had with him. He gave her a pointed look and she jerked her chin up in stubborn reply. He didn't know it, but their contact before had been too brief to give him the full on Max Guevara Winchester stubbornness. Whatever she'd already had, had been amplified with lessons learned from those three men. It was, regardless of anything else, something that stood her in good stead.

As Zack trotted up the steps and retrieved the key from where Logan said it had been hidden, Max sighed. "You know, I get the feeling that the longer I hang with big brother, the more apologizing I'm going to be doing."

Logan was silent for a moment and then chuckled. "Well, if you mean for Zack, just remember, his behavior is on him. No one can fault you for his upbringing. Or yours, for that matter."

"I suppose," Max smiled sadly. She glanced at the man that had risked himself, a man that was doing his own part to try and make the world a better place. Despite how they had started out, rocky quid pro quo, somewhere along the way a friendship had developed and Max was glad that she'd had Logan in her corner when it counted. Feeling strangely choked up, probably given from having to say goodbye to Sam earlier, Max was unsure how to say it again. Instead of worrying herself over it, since Logan understood the situation well, she chose to question something that had been bothering her on the drive up. She turned in her seat to face him.

"Are you sure you want to head back to Seattle?" she asked gently. "I mean, we don't know what the cops know after that little stunt we pulled, which, thank you by the way."

"It was barely anything, you know that," Logan chuckled. "The participation in said stunt, not the end result. And you are welcome."

She smiled tightly and then sighed. "You know, you could come with us." She felt like she was being slightly vague, but Logan it seemed, understood. He was shaking his head. "You know, just until the heat is off," she pressed.

"I don't know Max," he sighed as well. "My taking off right on the heels of you, especially when people know that we've been hanging together, it would look too suspicious."

"Yeah, yeah," she nodded. She knew that. "You're right. Well, I guess life is taking another unexpected turn, huh?"

"Yeah," Logan grinned and then smiled shyly at her. "I don't know what I'm going to do now that my best cat burglar is heading up to Canada."

Max shrugged, pleased at his acknowledgment of her work for him. She pretended to look thoughtful. "Um, keep fighting the good fight Mr. Eyes Only. Maybe churn out some more articles?"

"There's that, I suppose," Logan laughed and nodded. "Maybe I'll even work on that Pulitzer prize winning novel."

"I didn't know you were writing a novel?" Max exclaimed, surprised, though perhaps she shouldn't have been. Logan burst out laughing and shook his head.

"I was teasing," he admitted. "Although after this last half year, maybe I could give a go at science fiction."

"Yeah," Max scoffed. "I'd be a little leery of that." She smiled once more at him, glad that he was laughing and joking with her now. It made things easier. At least he was more at ease than he had been earlier during the drive, complaining of a stiff, sore back. "Well, this is me," she joked back, gesturing to the great outdoors. She climbed out of the vehicle, but before she closed the door, she leaned over to tell him, "please, be careful Logan."

"I will Max," he assured her, with a little wave. "You too. And Zack of course."

"He was born careful," she teasingly chuckled as she pushed the car door shut. But as she mimicked Zack's path of only a few minutes prior, she realized that she was only fooling herself that saying goodbye was okay. She was leaving behind so much in Seattle, in reality, almost her whole life. And right now, the only thing of that life that remained in the moment was Logan. She just couldn't leave things with a meaningless quip.

She spun on her heel and returned to the car, glad that Logan had his window down already. And truly, she only meant to lean in and give him a hug, to thank him for all that he had done for her. Even as she had done things for him. But she was taken completely off guard, when Logan's head twisted around and instead of accepting a hug from her, he had cupped the back of her head and pressing his lips hungrily against hers.

Shock kept her from pulling back immediately, her head whirling.

Realization that perhaps he was a little off kilter as well from the sudden change kept her from rearing back and punching him.

As it was, she allowed him this close sentimentality because she needed something too. Not this precisely, but something. When Logan finally began to pull back, Max braced herself on the car door, and crouched down a little. Logan looked just as shocked as she had initially felt. His eyes darted down, away from her face and she just waited quietly. When he spoke, his voice was soft, with the barest traces of hesitation.

"I'm not going to apologize for that," he finally said, though he still wasn't looking fully at her. She did notice his eyes darting towards her.

"I'm not asking you to," she replied just as softly as he. When he seemed to realize that there was no censure in her voice he chanced a glance up at her.

"I just..." he began, but his voice faded out and he shrugged.

"I understand," she moved her hand forward enough to rest on his bicep, through his light coat. "I can't say that I'm honestly in the same place Logan. I'm not exactly good girlfriend material, you know."

That made him chuckle ruefully and his hand came up to cover hers. This time he did meet her eyes. "Don't ever sell yourself short Max," he instructed, giving her a sad, understanding smile. "Take care."

"You too," she offered and as he leaned forward to put the car into drive, she stepped back out of the way of his wide turn to head back to Seattle. She watched as he pulled away, resolutely watching the road before him. She waved anyway and once he'd reached the turn in the path, did she finally turn and climb the steps.

And as she should have known he would be, Zack was waiting in the foyer.

"Well that was a hell of a kiss you planted on Cale," he snarked and Max frowned at him.

"For your information, he kissed me," Max sniped. "Not the other way around and not that it's any of your business."

"Looking out for you has always been my business Max," he barked back immediately. And Max had finally found a boiling point.

"You know Zack," she seethed quietly, "in the civilized world, it's normal for people to get a little emotional when their friends have to suddenly disappear. You'd think that you'd have learned that over the last decade. And even if you don't care to indulge in blatant sentimentality, some of us do. So excuse me if I take just one friggin' second to adjust to my life being thrown upside down!" She began to storm down the hallway, realizing that she was being a little ridiculous, as it wasn't Zack at all that she was upset with. But he was there and he was pushing. Just like the other brothers in her life. She shook her head as she realized why it was hurting so much. She had said goodbye to Sam, to Logan, Zack was here with her now. But... he wasn't the brother that she wanted.

She ignored Zack's apologetic and sheepish calls after her as she ducked into the first room with a door that she found. It was a bedroom and she dispelled the urge to throw herself on the bed like some prepubescent teen in a snit. Instead, she let the door click shut, leaned back against it before slowly sliding down to the floor before burying her face in her arms, braced upon her knees and let out a shuddering, voiceless keen.

Max had finally emerged from that room after giving in to her breakdown. More sentimentality she knew, but she had just given up the life and everything that had gone along with it that had kept her sane after she'd left... them. The Winchester's. Just as it had been the Winchesters' that had kept her sane after she'd escaped Manticore. She wasn't sure that Zack would understand that. Sure, he'd understand that she had grown close to these people, but from what she had seen before, from what he had said before, the only people that deserved their loyalty, was their original unit.

She'd made a pit stop in the bathroom to wash her face and after wandering around the large cabin a little, she'd come to a halt in the kitchen. She was quite surprised to find her brother standing at the stove, stirring something in a pot.

"Cale left the place pretty well stocked," he offered quietly, gesturing to the row of cans on the counter closest to him. Several had been opened and Max could see that Zack had opted for some stew, along with a box of instant mashed potatoes, made with, of all things, canned milk. She smiled softly. Dinner was going to be... interesting at least.

"Yeah well," she grinned, "those were probably the rations in case of nuclear bomb detonation." She pushed the cans back out of the way, making sure the counter was clean before hopping up to sit and watch big brother in his awkward bid at domesticity. "In case you hadn't realized, Logan might argue for the little people, but he certainly takes advantage of some of the things his wealth has to offer."

"I noticed," Zack smirked and glanced at another door. Curious, Max thought about hopping down to investigate, but then Zack was staring intently at her.

"What?" she demanded with a frown, which in turn made him smile again.

"I know, I've been riding your ass Max," he admitted and she scowled. That was how he was going to put it? Barely back in her life, for just a few months and he was treating her like the soldier she wasn't anymore and never wanted to be again. "But I'm only doing it because I want to see you safe."

Max had to chuckle. It was the refrain she heard every single time that she was on the phone with Sam. Of course, she used the same excuse with him. She wanted to know what he was up to, just for her peace of mind. What all of them were up to really. But there were realities about those situations that she wouldn't push the boundaries on.

"What's funny?"

"Nothin' really," she sighed. She pointed at the potatoes, bubbling merrily away on the back burner. "Better stir those too before they stick." Zack made a soft disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, before he did as she bade and then turned back to her. "I was just thinking that you aren't the only one cornering that protective vibe, you know."

Zack's eyebrows furrowed and then cleared. "These Winchester's?" he asked and she nodded.

"And not just them," she shrugged. "There've been some people recently in my life-!"

"Like Cale?" he growled out and Max was surprised. Whatever had gone down between Zack and Logan, her brother, and wouldn't he get a kick to know he wasn't the only one, really took a dislike to him. She wondered what it might be about Logan that upset them so much. But, this was the male mind she was thinking of, though come to think about it, Cindy and Kendra had been suspicious of him as well, at first. But then, they didn't know Logan's alter ego or the crusade he was on. Maybe if they did...

"Not him, no," Max shook her head. "No, I was thinking of Sketch and Herbal, couple people."

"Oh, from Jam Pony," Zack recalled. Max nodded. "They weren't so bad, were they?"

"No," Max shrugged. "They weren't. Though there were a few times I wanted to drop kick Sketch for all the trouble he got into.

"Oh yeah?" Zack seemed interested now, but Max couldn't tell if it were feigned or true. "Tell me about it."

She eyed him a little warily, but he just waited and finally with a sigh, she gave in, going back all the way to the first time that she had met Sketchy, when she and Cindy had started working at Jam Pony.

Working together, they brought the dinner Zack had created to the table and enjoyed a comfortable time, swapping stories about the screw ups of ordinary people they knew. The food was good, familiar, even if the potatoes did have a sweet flavor from the canned milk. As they cleaned up what they could, Zack asked again about the Winchester's.

"You know, when you first showed back up," Max mused as she dried a plate that Zack had handed to her, "it really freaked my brother out."

"Your brother?" Zack asked, glancing at her. "You really considered them family, huh?"

"Well, like I said before, they adopted me," she grinned. "But see, I was talking with Sam," she stressed the name and Zack's surprised glance made her chuckle. "Yeah, so when I told Sam that my brother Sam had shown up in town, he got a little freaked."

"Really?" Zack seemed amused now too.

"Well, I can't really blame them," Max sighed as she replaced the now dried plate in the cupboard. "It's not the first time someone has used their name for bad or shady things."

"Dean, right?" Zack asked, proving that as expected, he'd been listening intently and putting some things together in his mind.

"Yeah, Dean," Max sighed. She knew that she wouldn't be able to avoid this. "A couple months back, some freakazoid was impersonating him, committing murders. He never got a chance to clear his name before the killer died. So he's kinda dead to the world, as I understand it."

"Kind of extreme, but I get it," Zack assured her. He busied himself for a moment, pulling the drain from the sink and shaking the soap off his hands. "So lemme ask, why did you decide to stay with them? I mean, we all were taught..." he trailed off and grimaced.

"It wasn't right away," Max explained softly. She reached for one of the pots. "I had been roaming from foster home to foster home, running when the situation got tough or bad, keeping on the move, like we'd been taught."

"Finally got tired of that?" Zack asked, kindly for him and Max shook her head.

"More like, they wouldn't let me go," she smiled softly. She glanced at her brother again, he was now leaning back against the counter, his arms crossed, a slight scowl on his face. "Look, the last foster family I was with? The dad was a drunk and an abuser. And I don't mean with just his fists." She held up a hand to forestall him. "The other girl Lucy, she protected me. When things got too bad, she told me to hide, so I did and then I ran. When John hit me with the car, their first instinct was to help me, to protect me and John was canny enough to figure out pretty damn quick what was going on. When he offered to get me out of the state and to somewhere safe, it was like manna. So I jumped."

Zack was nodding now, looking a little relieved. "So that was it. He got you to safety and you just decided to stay?"

"No," Max protested softly. "No, I overheard him talking to Pastor Jim." She glanced up and shrugged one shoulder. "Friend of theirs that they visited every summer in Minnesota. Anyways, they were talking about what to do with me and Jim said he could look into finding me another foster family. I didn't want to be in that situation again, so I bailed."

"Of course."

She had to smile that this was the logical conclusion for both of them to make. "But they came after me," she remembered fondly. She set the pot down, not sure where he had found it and settled the towel on the counter before mimicking Zack's pose. "I took off to look for you guys, of course," she explained. "They found me a few towns over. I... I thought I had found you. I went up to this kid, from behind, looked just like you, but when he turned around..."

"Know the feeling," Zack muttered sadly, and when she peeked up at him, could see that his eyes were far away, but he came back to her after a moment.

"Anyway, I was sitting on this bus stop when all of a sudden they come screeching up in the Impala, scared to death because I had disappeared. They all converged on me, hugging the freak out of me and John hauled me off to the car and told me I had a choice to make. If I seriously wanted, I could take off, be on my own, face this big bad scary world on my own, or I could stay with them. Be one of them. I choose to stay. They were safe, they were... familiar. John had a way..." she frowned as she knew that there were so many things about the Winchester's that she couldn't say, couldn't explain. She smiled again though. "John's ex-Marine, so when he treated the boys like little soldiers, I was right there with them."

"Oh yeah?" Zack grinned at that and then nudged her shoulder with his own. "And here I thought you shunned all that hut hut hut."

"John wasn't a fanatic about it," Max laughed softly. "Most of the time. But like I said, it was familiar and safe. And they didn't push hard about the things I couldn't talk about."

"Like?" he said it softly, but she could hear the worried undertones there in his voice.

"The seizures, Eva, Lydecker," she mumbled. She inhaled deeply and sighed. "They kept me safe and healthy when the seizures hit. We figured out that tryptophan worked for them." She saw Zack nod and murmur agreement. "They knew that Eva was my sister and she had been killed. And though we never talked about Deck, they kind of figured he was, I don't know, my father or something. The one time he..."

"The one time what?" Zack prodded.

"We were in Washington," Max recalled. "John was home schooling Sammy and I at that point, since Dean had graduated. Anyway, we were doing an assignment on who we thought was a good president, some crap like that and Lydecker was in town. Meeting with the bigwigs or something. Well, I spotted him before he spotted me. Told John I wasn't feeling well and he dropped everything to take care of me. Got us out of there before Deck even could suspect anything."

"That's good," Zack breathed out. "That's good you had that then."

They stood, side by side, in silence for a long time until at last, Max pushed away from the counter.

"I'm gonna get a fire going," she decided. "It'll get chilly up here tonight without the heat on." She didn't bother to look and see if Zack agreed with her or not.

It didn't take much to get the fire going. The wood in the bin beside the fireplace was dry from being kept inside, protected from the elements. One touch of the match to the tinder and it lit right up. She didn't bother to prepare it with banking the embers in mind. The fire needed to be fully out come morning, since she knew that she and Zack would be heading to Canada before first light.

She stood and stared out the window of the cabin. Outside the building, all was calm, serene, but inside, she felt anything but. Zack had been trying to be nice when he had said what he had said. That it was good that she had had the Winchester's then. But the truth of the matter was, even though she and Sam kept in touch, even though she loved them all, to differing degrees and ways, she just didn't feel like she had them anymore. Too much time, too many things happening, too many changes had pulled them apart.

It was almost like how things had become with her Manticore siblings. They had been together, a unit that had made themselves a family. But when it became too much, they had eventually scattered. That life on the edge... you had to pull back at some point. The breaking point in Manticore had been Jack's death, the seizures, those maneuvers. For Sam, the breaking point had been a touch of normality amidst the insanity. For Max it had been Dean, and then Seth.

Those kids, her first family, they would always be in her heart, just as the Winchester's would be. But she didn't know if she had the strength to go through this time and again. To gain her family only to lose it again. If she played it safe, like Zack, a lone wolf moving through the world with no ties, no loyalties but the ones he decided. But then, she remembered the loneliness. But the pain of loss was a heavy burden. Just look at Sam and Jess. John and Mary. She bit at her lower lip as she fought the tears that came up as she thought again about losing Jess, losing Brin. Two sisters, both as different as night and day. The only thing in common was that they had been loved by Max. At least Brin was still alive and if there was any way, any small semblance of who she had been, then Max would fight for her.

She heard movement again in the kitchen, footsteps coming her way. Hastily swiping at her eyes to rid herself of the evidence pooling in her eyes, of her sentimentality, she moved away from the window and took a seat on the plush sofa before the fire. Zack came into the room, smiling, carrying something in both hands.

Recognizing that it was a bottle of wine, in one hand and two wine glasses in the other, Max wanted to laugh ruefully. Of course Logan would have the family cabin stocked with some of his favorites. She wondered idly if Zack knew the differences and nuances of the fermented fruits, or if he had just grabbed the first thing he had seen. She raised one eyebrow, but he mistook her thoughts and how they translated on her face.

"We've got security tonight," he defended himself as he took a seat before her on the coffee table, gently setting down his largess. "Safe place to stay, so I figured, why not?" Max simply inclined her head, not worrying either way. It wasn't like sharing a bottle of Pinoit Grigot was going to adversely affect them. She watched as Zack deftly uncorked the bottle, allowing the cork to pop free, but keeping it from going far. He poured half a glass each and then settled the cork loosely in the bottle. Settling it not far from himself, he reached for one glass and handed it to her. She took it and waited for him to retrieve his own. He lifted it in the air before him. "Here's to doing the right thing. Even if it took you forever," he added teasingly and she knew he was referring to leaving Seattle.

"Yeah," she murmured, avoiding his eyes and busying herself with sipping at the cool refreshment that she barely tasted. Zack swallowed his mouthful and regarded her, seeming to sense that this was not the time to push her. He smiled gently at her, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, holding the wine glass between both hands.

"I remember the morning, the first one after we escaped," he told her earnestly. "I got into Cheyenne early. Early enough that people were just starting to spill out on the streets. And they were just regular people, not the kind we were used to. Normal people going to their jobs, or errands or whatever." He held her gaze for a moment. "To be honest, they scared the hell out of me. To me, with what we learned, these people, they were the enemy. All of them. And I was so outnumbered."

"I remember that feeling," Max sighed. She did remember it well, as all those people had surged around her, that day at the bus stop. All strangers, all potential threats. Until she saw that one familiar thing. The Impala. It had been safety, surety, it held something that she hadn't known she'd needed so badly.

"I knew I had to get away," Zack continued, smiling a little ruefully. "So I climbed up to the roof of a building downtown. Had to lay low." They both chuckled at that. "The sun was just coming up and I realized, all of a sudden, I was a free man. Everything changed in that moment. The whole world took on a new look."

"Like it went from black and white to Technicolor all of a sudden," Max agreed. She remembered that sensation too. She barely noticed when Zack set his wine glass back on the table and scooted a little further forward.

"I know you think I'm being hard on you," he offered gently. "Max, I really am just trying to keep you safe."

"I know," she smiled up at him. Just as she would do for him. He smiled just a little and reached to push one of the tendrils of hair that had slipped down to curl around her eye and cheek, back behind her ear.

"You're going to miss him, aren't you?" Zack asked intuitively and Max's eyes startled wider for a moment. "And the Winchester's too." He seemed apologetic, but Max wasn't sure. A little embarrassed that she had thought that Zack had seen right through her, thinking of Dean, but he meant Logan, she blurted out her next words.

"You think it's stupid, don't you?"

"No," his voice was soft, the harshness lost as he scooted closer still. "A part of me wants that too. To have friends, my family. Maybe a place in the world to belong to. Someone to care about and someone to care about me."

Max smiled up at him, holding her lower lip between her teeth as she contemplated the sincerity of his words. And it was right there in his eyes for her to see, as clear as the sun in the sky.

"I thought that was all just a sentimental lie?" she teased him, her smile for real now. He leaned all the way forward and bumped her forehead with his gently, even as his hand rested on her shoulder.

"Hey," he protested good naturedly, a small chuckle rumbling through him, "even I'm allowed to have a moment or two of weakness."

And while he meant it to be a teasing, harmless remark, he could not know how deep it cut into Max. For that was exactly what had killed the safety and surety that she had known in her life. Two moments of weakness.

Bobby Singer sat at his kitchen table. It had long ago foregone use as it was intended and now often housed whatever tools of whichever trade Bobby happened to be working on in the moment. On this day in particular, he was simply cleaning and working on re sighting several of his weapons that he had employed recently. A dirty gun was anathema to the grizzled old hunter and a gun that was even millimeters off could be the difference between life and death.

It barely phased him at all when the telephone closest to him rang. With just a glance towards it, he realized it was the main line for his auto wreckage business. Hooking the phone with one slightly oily finger, from the gun cleaner, he caught the phone between his shoulder and his ear. "Singer Salvage Yard," he answered politely, though with a vague hint of disinterest.

"Hey Singer man," a female's voice trilled over the line. "How's my puppy doin'?"

Bobby's face lit up as he set the pieces of revolver that he had apart back on the table and reached for some paper towels to wipe his hands off. "Tryin' to eat me outta house and home. That's how. And how the hell are you doin' girl?"

"Doin' good," she returned. "Better than I was the last few days."

"Oh?" he muttered, knowing that even though she was adopted, what a penchant for understatement all the Winchester's had. "Anything I can help with?"

"It's dealt with," she assured him quickly. "Nothin' I couldn't handle, especially since it was the every day normal variety of crap, huh."

"Somehow," he drawled out teasingly, "knowing you Maxie, that doesn't reassure me." She laughed in response.

"It wasn't too bad," Max sighed at last. "Remember that PI I told you about? Vogelsang?"

Bobby took a moment to recall and then was nodding. "He was looking for your family, right?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "Well, he found my brother Zack, when Zack hit Seattle. He had called me to arrange a meet to let me know the information he had found. But when I got to the location, he was dead."

"Well shit," Bobby grunted. Never a good sign no matter which way you cut it.

"Uh huh," Max agreed dryly. "Anyway, because he had my contact info on him when the hit went down, cops assumed the worst and put up wanted posters. You know, I woulda thought Sam would have told you this?"

"I ain't talked to that boy in a couple years," Bobby growled, extremely put out of joint by the fact.

"Oh, sorry," Max laughed and then stilled. "Do you know what happened with him? I mean, what went down?"

"I know," Bobby assured her, his voice heavy with sympathy. "I may not be in that idjit's loop, but my sources are still talking."

"Okay," Max sighed and then went on. "Anyways, the cops were looking for me, but I bugged out with a little help."

"Well yeah," Bobby agreed, it was the obvious thing to do until the heat was off.

"Of course, I ended up going back, but it all turned out in the end," she gamely finished and Bobby grimaced.

"I never thought I'd have to say this to you girl but, what the hell were you thinking?" he growled at her. He wasn't too upset, since obviously she was fine, but still...

"You left off the idiot," she prompted him and Bobby had to grin.

"That goes without sayin'," he told her. "Besides, that's reserved for those fool brothers of yours."

"Well I hate to think what you call Dad," she teased. "Though I do remember some choice words coming out of that mouth of yours on a few occasions."

"What can I say?" Bobby leaned back in his chair, not having enjoyed a conversation so much since the last time he'd chatted with Maxie. "Your Daddy brings out the best in me."

"And the worst," she agreed. "He has that gift, huh?"

"So," Bobby wondered, pushing aside the topic that they could spend days trying to dissect and never getting anywhere on. "What made you go back?"

There was a heavy sigh before she answered. "A friend of mine was in trouble. Serious health problems. He uh, well, he had to go back under the knife because some bullet fragments shifted closer to his spine."

"Yowch!" Bobby groaned. "But I don't see what you coulda done other than moral support," he chastised gently.

"Well, as it turns out," Max drawled, "it was a good thing I did go. Logan's AB negative." Bobby nodded at that, recognizing the rarity of the blood type. "The hospitals' blood bank was tapped from the operation and the batch they pulled up from the city reserve was tainted. So I was there in a pinch."

"A pinch is right," Bobby shook his head. He couldn't fault the girl for trying to help. It was a fundamental thing about her. That she'd risk about anything to take care of the people she loved. Bobby was just glad he was on that end of her spectrum, instead of the other. "So he's all right then?"

"He is," Max agreed. "And just 'cause I know you'll fret yourself to death if I don't explain, yes, the cops picked me up, along with every other female in the city that matched my description. And then they let me go."

"They let you go?" Bobby repeated, slightly incredulous.

"Yeah," Max agreed. "Apparently an anonymous tip gave them some more information on the actual killer and when they found the perp, he still had the murder weapon on him. So that was that."

"Okay," Bobby nodded. "Well, I guess that turned out all right. But seriously Maxie?"

"Yeah?"

He could hear the slight apprehension in her voice and smiled softly, knowing what she was expecting. "I'm glad you called. Don't get me wrong, I love your letters. But I like hearin' your voice even more kid."

"Yeah," she chuckled, sounding relieved. "I was wondering?"

"What about?" he asked.

"Two things, but you already answered the one."

"If I'd heard from the boys," he surmised.

"Or John," she sighed.

"Not a peep outta him," Bobby admitted, though over the past few years, that wasn't so unusual.

"Yeah, I kinda figured," Max groaned. "Problem is, I called Sam when I was leaving and let him know that I had to leave my cell behind. So he spread the word and they got themselves some new numbers. I have no way of contacting them. I told him I'd leave word with friends if I could and you were the first one on my list."

"So I rank that high, huh?" Bobby teased again, feeling a warm glow emanating through his chest.

"Of course," Max assured him. "Anyway, if you hear from them, please let them know my number is still the same."

"I can do that sweetheart," he promised. "Although, I might just have an idea. I can give it a try and let you know if I come up with anything. Okay?"

"All right Bobby," she enthused. "And the other thing?" Bobby grunted his assent for her to go ahead. "I was wondering if you'd be adverse to a little company for a few days this summer?"

Bobby perked right up when he heard that. "Seriously?" he demanded. "'Cause you know you're always welcome?"

"Yeah, seriously," Max said. "It's been a few years and I miss you Bobby. Letters and calls just aren't always enough, you know?"

"I do know," he agreed, trying to hold back a suspicious little sniffle that he was sure was just from the fumes wafting up to his nose from the table. "And besides, maybe with you around Rummy will get so lovesick again that he can drop a few of those extra pounds he's packed on, huh?"

"Oh please," Max giggled. "I'm not a miracle worker." Bobby laughed as well and they exchanged a few more pleasantries before hanging up. With his hand still on the main line, he stared blankly at the wall for a moment, thinking. He knew that John, even if he had gotten a new cell phone, would have hung on to the old one for at least a little while, in case anyone else needed to leave word for him until his new number finally made the rounds.

Just on the off chance that it was the case, he pulled one of his phones close and dialed the number that he knew, to try and reach John. When the call was put through to voice mail, the usual rigmarole was still in place, but there were instructions to contact Dean if it was an emergency. Bobby repeated the number under his breath while he grabbed a pencil and some scrap of paper. He got it written down and left a terse, "call your daughter, number's the same," message for the man. He highly doubted that John would listen or do so. But then, all Bobby knew he could do was try.

Hanging up that call, he was immediately thumbing the next number into the phone. Wondering if this was Dean's new or old number, he was relieved when it was answered by a familiar voice.

"Hello?"

"Hey, where's your brother, ya idjit?" he demanded gruffly.

"Bobby! Hey!"

"We already said that Sam," he teased, though you couldn't tell from his tone.

"Right, sorry," Sam apologized and Bobby could just see the kid, ducking his head, bein' all sheepish. "Yeah, Dean's in the can. I only answered because sometimes he gets calls for jobs."

"I 'spect your daddy's got something to do with that," Bobby declared grumpily. As if the boys didn't have enough on their plate.

"Maybe," Sam answered heavily. "So anyways, what did you need?"

"Oh, so I can't call just to check on you boys?" Bobby was right back to teasing the boy as if a beat had never been missed, time had never split everyone apart.

"Oh well of course," Sam backpedaled hastily and Bobby had to keep himself from laughing aloud. "It's just, that's not really like you Bobby."

And the jig was up. Because Sam was right. Bobby wasn't an ol' biddy gossip, even if Dean had accused him and John of being worse on one or two occasions. "Well you're right, but for once it's good news, so..."

"Okay," Sam waited, the very obviously patient one of the family. Aside from Max. They had to be when Dean or John got it in their hot heads. But then, John and Sam had been known to go at it. And Max and Dean. But the consequences of the latter two, well, it was a whole different ball of wax from the arguments Bobby remembered between father and son.

"I just got a call from little Maxie," he happily informed the young man whom he considered to be the nearest thing to a child of his own, along with his siblings, adopted or no.

"You did?" The relief in Sam's voice was palpable and Bobby was glad that he'd gone forward and called the dunderhead's phone. "Is she okay?"

"Better than," Bobby answered happily. "The cops found the real killer, she's off the hook and back home in Seattle, safe and sound."

"Oh man, that's great," Sam sighed happily. "That's wonderful news." Bobby heard the phone muffle slightly and then Sam announce that he was talking to Bobby. And no it wasn't about Dad. Bobby grinned. He could just imagine Dean's one track mind. And then Sam was back. "Dean wants to know if you've heard from Dad."

"You know I haven't," Bobby grunted. "Otherwise, you'd be hearing my pissy voice right about now."

"Yeah, I remember your pissy voice," Sam laughed. Apparently the news about Max was enough to lift his spirits quite a bit. "Though I thought it was reserved mostly for the dog." But then just as lightning fast, he was back on topic. "So, she called you...?"

"Since you went ahead and changed your numbers," Bobby informed him, his tone slightly sarcastic and Sam immediately picked up on it and quickly reeled off his new number, forgoing Dean's since Bobby obviously already had it. "But hers is still the same." He paused for a moment, wondering if he was sticking his nose in where it wasn't wanted and then realizing that it had never stopped him before. "She's sounding a little homesick Sam. Asking if she could come up and see me this summer."

"I think that would be good," Sam murmured softly. "Maybe Dean and I could swing out that way. It's been a while."

"That it has," the older man agreed with a grin. Three of the four Winchester's that he still liked under his roof all at once sounded like a plan, or a disaster in the making. But then, with that family, Bobby was sorta used to it. "So, you boys let me know and I'll plan me some vacation time. Where're you at now?"

"We just finished up a case in Iowa," Sam informed him. "Don't know where exactly we're headed next."

"Okay," Bobby nodded. "Well go ahead and call your sister. And you boys can tell me all about it next time."

"Sounds good. Talk to you later."

Bobby made his own goodbyes and after he had hung up stared at the phone for a moment. Sam might think he was being sneaky. But Bobby had known him long enough to know a few things. And right there, that boy was planning something.

"What'd Bobby have to say?" Dean demanded as the brothers climbed back into the car after their pit stop. "And why were you answering my phone anyways?"

"I thought it might be a job and I'm glad I did," Sam answered simply, not letting Dean get a rise out of him. His brother shrugged, letting it go, since it was perfectly logical and what Dean would have done in his shoes. "Bobby was letting us know that Max called him."

"She doin' okay?" his brother asked softly, avoiding Sam's interested gaze. Sam smirked slightly, staying quiet for a moment, until Dean gave in to the urge that Sam knew was gnawing at his stomach. Dean frowned at his brother and then gave him a glare that had long lost it's menacing overtone with his brother. "Well? Simple question dude."

"Yeah, she is," Sam grinned. "Apparently the cops found the real killer."

"See," Dean grinned triumphantly. "I told you she wouldn't do something like that."

"Uh huh," Sam grunted, turning in his seat slightly, angling for a comfortable position. "Right after which, you decided that she would, if she had cause to."

"Well, wouldn't you?"

Sam just shook his head warily. Pulling out his own phone, he ignored his brother's muttered rantings to dial in the number that he knew well. He'd try her at home first, though he doubted he'd get her, since it was still afternoon on the west coast. But to his surprise, the call was answered after only a few rings.

"Hello?" his sister's slightly subdued voice made him pause, but he wondered if it was because it was an unfamiliar number calling.

"Hey," he greeted quietly. "Did you miss me?"

"Sam!" her squeal nearly busted his ear drum and he pulled the phone away, laughing as he did so.

"Hang on," he called out, deftly switching to the hands free speaker phone.

"Oh man," she was saying. "I know Bobby's good, but I didn't think he was that good!"

"He's the best," Sam agreed and the happiness he knew was in his voice, his eyes, his whole being, was echoed in Dean's eyes at the very least, even if he kept said eyes on the road. There was a whole softening to his brother, relief that their sister was okay, the moment they heard her voice. "So tell me what happened. I didn't get too much from Bobby. The real killer confessed?"

"Yeah," Max sighed. "From what I can figure, it was one of Vogelsang's other clients."

Dean and Sam's eyes met worriedly. They hadn't known or realized that Max actually knew the victim.

"He was that private investigator you hired, right?" Sam asked gently.

"Yeah, though as a source, he'd dried up a while ago," Max grumbled. "He got himself into a lot of sticky situations, and this was one... well." He could hear the pain in her voice and hated bringing that up. "But the cops got a hold of some more info and found the perp, weapon still in his possession."

_Weapon?_ Dean mouthed at him, just as Sam was wondering the same thing aloud.

"Yeah, he was shot," Max informed them. Dean instantly rolled his eyes and Sam wasn't far behind him. Well it was obvious then, knowing that, that it could never have been Max.

"But hey," Sam searched for something to brighten things up, "at least you got to spend some more time with Zack, right?"

"Oh yeah, buckets of joy there," her voice, instead of perking up, sounded even gloomier. Sam frowned, wondering what could have happened to put a damper on her like that.

"Not the reunion you were expecting?" he asked gently.

"Oh no, that was fine," she exclaimed. "It's just..."

"What is it?" Sam asked as patiently as he could.

"It's nothing," Max protested softly. "Well, not nothing, but nothing solid."

"Yeah, but if it concerns you, it concerns me," Sam reminded her. "What's going on."

"It's Zack. Or at least..."

"What did he do?" Sam wondered.

"No, it's not that," Max denied instantly. "Look, I just got word today that the flight that Zack was on?"

"Yeah?"

"It went down, somewhere over the Rocky mountains."

Both brothers shared a miserable look at that announcement.

"And I know," she continued, "that the report stated no survivors, but also no bodies."

"You think he might be okay?" Sam wondered and was relieved when Max chuckled.

"Well," she sighed, "Zack is a survivor. If anyone could've done it, it'd be him. I guess, I just get the sense that Zack is probably okay."

"Well that's good," Sam nodded in relief. She could have taken that news much worse than she actually was. "No news is good news."

"Sure," she chuckled. "Now, on the down side," she began and Sam grimaced, bracing himself again. "Normal's being an absolute dick right now."

"Uh, you mean as opposed to his usual sunny self?" Sam chuckled, letting the tension go.

"Oh no, the man is on a mission to make me miserable," Max laughed. "Of course, that's what happens when one of his 'feckless bums' disappears from work in the middle of the day, he finds out she's wanted for murder and when he takes off to go turn information on said worker, instead of collecting the fifty grand, gets railroaded about some unpaid parking tickets, thrown in jail and threatened with a strip search!"

"Oh no way!" Sam half shouted, amazed. Not that Normal would turn on Max. He was that type of sniveling little moron that would do exactly that. But for him to get such an excellent comeuppance when he was technically doing a civic duty just made it all the sweeter.

"Uh, yes way," Max giggled and Sam was amazed to see his brother's face light up as well, as Dean tried to muffle his own laughter. But some of it escaped from his mouth, there was no help for it.

"Yeah, I think Dean's about to bust a gut over here, trying not to laugh himself to death," Sam commented carefully. And to his amazement, Max didn't immediately break off the conversation.

"I don't blame him," Max chuckled herself. "I got the dirty details from Logan, who knows Detective Sung, who was the one taking Normal's statement. And of course I had to tell all of the lovely bums whose chops Normal likes to bust. And of course there's been an influx of jokes and innuendos, you know what they're like?"

"Oh I can just imagine," Sam smiled, fondly remembering the people that Max had introduced him to, that he'd been able to get to know just slightly, when he had visited her.

"Although Herbal seems to think that enough was enough," Max sighed. "He got what was coming to him and that's the end of it. But knowing Normal, he won't let it go until he gets a jones for some other thing to be pissy over."

"I'm sure you guys will come up with something soon," Sam rejoined. "After all, you learned from the best and I know you're happy to share the wealth, right?" he teased.

"But of course," Max's voice was preening and Dean was nodding his head. "Cindy's already got plans to spike his coffee with a little ex-lax, but I might just have her save that for down the road." They all chuckled at that one. "Anyway Sam, I am so glad you called, but I'm actually still on the clock. I just stopped by the apartment to grab some water. We're actually having a halfway decent day. And I was getting a little dehydrated."

"Gasp, shock!" Sam teased. "You're actually working instead of making Normal's life hell."

"Yeah, well got those bills to pay and groceries to buy," she quipped back. "Can I call you back later? Now that I have your digits again."

"Of course," Sam agreed. "We're between jobs right now, so anytime is good."

"Okay," she sounded happy to his ears. "You guys take care and I'll talk to you later."

Sam hung up the phone and turned in his seat to regard his brother, who was grinning like a fool. Sam didn't think he was quite so bad, though his spirits were certainly lighter now. "So," he began.

"Don't even go there Sammy," Dean warned, though it wasn't as harsh as it usually was.

"I wasn't," Sam held up his hands. He knew that Dean probably figured that Sam would try and get into this whole argument between his siblings, digging up past hurts again, but he wasn't. That wasn't his intent. "I was just going to say, that maybe, can't be sure, but maybe Max is ready to move on from whatever happened between you too. Maybe she's finally ready to forgive you, huh?"

"Yeah," Dean grunted with a roll of his eyes, firmly unconvinced. "I ain't gonna hold my breath on that one Sam."

"I'm just saying," Sam pointed out. "No matter what else, we're still family. She obviously still cares."

"I know she does," Dean shrugged. "And just like the rest of the family, she knows how to hold a grudge." He glanced at his younger brother. "Just quit worryin' about it. When it all comes down to it, we'll be there for each other. You know that."

"Yeah," Sam agreed softly, relaxing back into his seat. "I know. Jerk."

"Bitch."

The word floated back automatically and though neither knew or realized, they were both thinking along very similar lines. Things may not have been perfect, but at least some sort of status quo had been re-established. And maybe, in some case, a little bit better than what it had been before.


	35. Courting Disaster

Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/ Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to MA for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

**Chapter Rating**: PG-13 for language.

Time line/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural time line. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: Dean/ Max, other canon pairings

**Summary**: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Thirty-five

Courting Disaster

"You trying Max again?" Dean asked as he was removing some clothes from his duffel. Sam, pulling the towel from his hair and tossing it onto the bed as he thumbed their sister's number into his phone once more, just nodded.

After their harrowing night being attacked from any and all angles from killer insects, their priorities had been to get the hell out of there, find a motel, any motel and shower the feeling of the stings, bites and just the general creepiness of little buggy legs crawling all over them, off. Sam had won rights to the first shower just because his legs were longer and he was able to make it to the bathroom first. He also had the feeling that if Dean had another credit card or enough cash, he'd have gotten another room just for the bathroom alone. Sam hid his smirk, recalling how girlish his big brother had gotten over that steam shower in the house they'd squatted in, on the last case.

After a few minutes, the phone was finally answered on the other end. But it was Kendra who had answered.

"Hey Sam," she greeted enthusiastically enough. He had to smile. She'd never had a bad word to say, even when things got strange or weird. "What's up?"

"Just calling in for my weekly check-up," he joked. Kendra's laugh tinkled over the line.

"You make her sound like a parole officer," she giggled and Sam smiled. Of course Max was in the same boat as he. If he had to check in with her, it was just as much the shoe on the other foot. And speaking of...

"Well if the steel toed boot fits," he joked, knowing well his sister's propensity for the occasional less than feminine footwear she indulged in. "Is she home yet?"

"Actually you just missed her," Kendra could make an unseen over the telephone pout, unlike any other. "She's heading over to Logan's. Which is a good thing. Because after the week she has had and their huge ass fight..."

"She and Logan were fighting?" Sam caught and seized upon. He knew that it had caught his brother's attention, the way he stilled and waited for more information, just the same as Sam.

"Yeah, I guess," Kendra sighed and blew out a frustrated breath. "I don't know if, well, I mean I know what he did to piss her off. But I guess it got even worse."

"What did he do?" Sam demanded at once, settling himself on the end of the bed and giving his brother 'uh-oh' face in the gleeful manner of one who had been expecting something like this and was quite unperturbed about it. Dean seemed to be fighting a grin and he continued to organize his clothes. Sam was not at all surprised to see that his brother was putting off his shower by a little to find out what had gone down between their sister and the guy that they were sure was a major cause of problems in Max's life. Some of the crap he seemed to pull her into...

"Well, Max was being an absolute sweetheart," Kendra began, seeming to talk while she was doing something else. Sam could hear what sounded like drawers shutting and realized that Kendra was probably getting ready for an evening out. But as long as she was willing to talk, he was willing to listen. "She invited Logan here for dinner, to thank him for all the times that he cooked for her."

"Uh huh," Sam encouraged as Dean moved closer. He managed not to roll his eyes at his brother's obsessive compulsive behavior. It had been going on too long now for him to continue harping on. It was just a newish old behavior applied, most likely because Max wasn't there for Dean to keep his nosy older brother eye on. He did however, tilt the phone slightly so that Dean could hear as well. It would save him from having to give Dean a blow by blow replay of the conversation.

"And you know she can't cook a damn thing," Kendra was going on. "So I taught her how to make pasta tricolore." Sam ducked his chin and chuckled. That would have been a sight. Max had learned how to bake, but cooking seemed to elude her on the best days. It was a bittersweet thought, since it was something she had enjoyed with Jess. He pushed the thought away as Max's room mate went on. "Anyway, I left after Logan got here. But I guess he was all business and completely disregarded her efforts and made her go do some errand with him for one of his articles."

"Ouch," Sam winced. He knew very well what cardinal rule of male/ female behavior that Cale had broken, but his brother's snort of amusement drew his attention.

"Always knew the guy was a dumb ass," Dean declared quietly, but with the same self satisfied smugness that Sam wasn't admitting to quite yet.

"So I take it he must have made it up to her," Sam sighed, since Kendra had said...

"He must have," Kendra grumbled. "Though I have no idea how. No flowers or gifts or anything, but she was in a better mood tonight. Probably," and then she let our a snorting giggle. "Normal," she got out and Sam's eyebrows raised up swiftly.

"What'd he do now?" he demanded gently.

"Turns out he was dating a woman, formerly named Louis, who," Kendra informed them with pleasure, "after just a few dates with Normal, decided she was gay."

That was enough to send Dean off into paroxysms of laughter, while Sam fought valiantly to hide his own smile. It wasn't a pleasant prospect, to have.. that happen, but it was Normal and... he just couldn't hold it in. Sam wasn't as obnoxious about it as Dean, but the laughter escaped and he couldn't take it back. "Oh man," he sighed, "that's bad. I mean, it's Normal, but still..."

"Yeah, Cindy felt pretty bad for him," Kendra cooed over the line. And before he could ask, went on. "I guess it was a huge joke, of course it was. But this chick? She actually had the nerve to break up with Normal and then turn around and ask him to give Cindy her number."

"Now that sucks," Dean grunted. And Sam was in full agreement.

"Did Cindy take it?" he wondered aloud and Kendra was immediately making negative noises.

"She said that if the girl was gonna treat other people like that, especially one that she claimed to like, even if it was just as a friend, then it was someone she didn't want to know," Kendra informed him and Sam was nodding. Cindy might be quite an over the top character, but she had a good heart. He knew that already. And the same could be said of Kendra. At least, he was relieved to realize again, that Max had some good people in her life there in Seattle. Unlike...

"So back to Logan," he hinted. "He must have done something to get back in her good graces. 'Cause you know Max can hold a grudge." His eyes flew to Dean as he said that, smirking at his elder brother, who just sneered mockingly at him and moved away to grab a few things out of his bag.

"I'm goin' to shower," he announced in a whisper and Sam nodded.

"I have no clue," Kendra told him. "All I know is that he screwed up, Max was on an anti man rant, she and Sketch almost got caught in the middle of that gang war goin' down on Clemson, she was gone one night and when she got back, she had calmed down about it all. Oh and she said something about the cops and some girls. Which, oh! That was probably it."

"What was it?" Sam asked helplessly, not knowing what to panic over. Gang wars? And with Sketch, who was not notoriously brave or reliable, or in any way qualified to protect his sister. Not that she would need it in most circumstances, but.. gang war! He did notice that whatever panic was in his voice had stopped his brother cold in his tracks and Dean had half turned at the entrance to the bathroom to stare, puzzled again at the sudden shift.

"Well, Max was going on about guys bein' all task oriented and just, like I said, anti men. I mean, the girl didn't even want to kick it with Sven!"

"Who is Sven?" Sam asked with a grimace, wishing now that he had just called Max's cell direct instead of his usual try her at home first routine. But then, she probably wouldn't have said a word about the majority of this, as was her typical mode of operation.

"Blond haired, blue eyed Swedish Adonis I know," Kendra tittered, but then grew serious again. "Just a friend. But Max left Crash as soon as we all got there. That was the night she took off. I went to check on her, but she was on the phone, talking to someone about some girls that had just been nabbed off the streets. It was on the news."

"It was?" Sam's radar went up even further. How did they not know... well he knew. But then, there must have been nothing supernatural about it.

"Yeah," Kendra confirmed. "This dirt bag was paying some dirty cops to round up young girls that were out after this supposed curfew, which is totally bogus, and then Brock? Or something like that, this guy was smuggling them to the middle east to be sold in slave auctions."

"What!" Sam's voice had entered a register that he was quite certain he hadn't seen since puberty and Dean was at his side in an instant. "Jesus!" Sam exclaimed, but before either Dean or Kendra could respond, he muttered, "hang on!" And then with his hand muffling the phone, quickly relayed to Dean what Kendra had just told him.

"Told you man," Dean replied, a heavy sadness lingering in his eyes as he shook his head, "it's a fucked up world out there." Sam nodded slowly. "But how does Max figure in?" Sam shook his head and turned back to the cell, repeating that very question to Kendra.

"Oh, she's friends with one of the detectives, I think, through Logan," Kendra explained. "So I think she had called Logan so that he could tell his cop friend. I mean, she saw it happen. You know Max. She's not gonna ignore something like that."

"No, of course not," Sam sighed. Kendra was right. His sister would never. And giving the police information and of course there would be so much more red tape given that Internal Affairs would have to be involved. But little girls... It was a sickening thought to contemplate.

"Okay, so one more question," Sam sighed and snagged his brother's sleeve before Dean could retreat again. He already knew the hell he'd pay if Dean found out about this after the fact. Dean shot him a slight glare and Sam held up one finger. "Please tell me you were just kidding about this gang war." He knew that he'd made the right decision when Dean's eyes widened and he sank back down to the bed.

"Ah crap!" Kendra grunted. "Yeah, that probably would have been on the list of things not to tell you about if Max knew..."

"Knew what?" Sam demanded. "Okay Kendra, you can't not tell me now!"

"Gossipy little bitch aren't you?" Dean smirked happily and Sam grimaced at him, wrinkling his nose and then leaning away from his elder brother. Dean's eyes narrowed, not too much and Sam was wondering about the wisdom of pushing buttons at the moment. At least it was slightly distracting, but he'd much rather hear about Max's problems, so he knew what he could call bull shit on when he finally talked to her.

There was a long sigh and then Kendra began speaking in a scolding tone. "All right, look Sam, I got the story from Sketch and you know what he's like."

"I know," Sam nodded, even though she wouldn't see. He wondered if she'd ask him to cross his heart and not break a secret swear or something. But she didn't. She just sighed once more and began the tale.

"All right, so Sketch had to deliver a package on Clemson street, which he says are in perpetual turf and gang wars," Kendra informed her audience of two, since Sam had tilted the phone for Dean once more. "It's not as bad as that, but honestly, tensions have escalated on occasion. As I understand it, they usually don't bother service people."

"Okay," Sam hedged. "So why was Sketch...?"

There was another aggrieved noise from the blond on the other end of the line. "They had to deliver... it was a finger, okay?"

"What?" the question echoed in the room as both males blurted it out. Naturally though, Kendra noticed and seized upon the distraction.

"Is that your brother Dean with you?" she asked with a laugh.

"Um," Sam hedged, because he didn't really want to get onto the topic of over sexed elder brother phone meeting little sister's over sexed room mate. "Yeah, he's just... leaving." He scrunched up his face, squinting his eyes almost shut as he waited for the expected blow for being an intentional cock block, but Dean was just looking slightly amused again. Sam eased away from his brother and Dean shook his head. At that point, Sam wasn't sure if Dean was waiting until he relaxed slightly, or if his brother was warning him that he'd get it when Sam least expected it to come.

"But seriously," he hurriedly continued, hoping now to distract them both. "A finger?"

"Oh all right," Kendra grumbled. "Sketch said that the gangster recognized the finger and demanded to know where the pick up was made. When Max told him, the guy went a little nuts, threatening them and everyone else that pissed them off and remember, _according to Sketch_," she stressed the words, "they barely got out of there with limbs and skin attached."

Sam shuddered as the unintentional reminder of the shape shifter that had impersonated Dean and so many others came to the fore front of his mind. He was pretty sure Kendra wouldn't ever use those words again if she'd been anywhere around the moltings of that being. He shivered, glad that he hadn't eaten in a while. And probably wouldn't now that that was on his mind. Not for a few more hours anyway.

"Okay," Sam sighed, figuring that he'd covered about everything that he could with Kendra and she was probably feeling bad about letting that slip. If he wanted to stay in good standing with her, he'd have to figure out how to handle Max without her blaming her room mate. But that whole thing about a list of things Kendra wasn't allowed to tell him, well, that was a bonus little tidbit that he could guilt her with. He knew instinctively that that would work. "Well, I've probably taken up enough of your time."

"It's okay Sam," he could hear he smile in her voice once more. "I know you worry about her. She worries about you too. And Dean. That's the way family works."

"That it does," he agreed with a pleased smile, before they exchanged their final pleasantries and hung up. He stared at the phone in his hand, wondering how much trouble he'd get in for deliberately calling Max and interrupting her evening with Logan, especially after all Kendra had told him about their having a fight and now apparently making up.

Once again, he was wondering what was really going on between those two that Max wasn't telling him.

Max stared at the phone in her hands. She had been debating making this call the last day or so. Ever since Kendra had informed her that Sam had called while she was over at Logan's for dinner. Kendra had also informed her that she had sort of spilled the beans on what Max had been up to. Max could have been upset, but wasn't. She recognized that she had put Kendra in a tough position by asking her not to talk to Sam about some stuff. But when they had first talked about it, Kendra had pointed out that she understood. She had the same problem with her family. According to Kendra, her mother was a worrywart. And every time she talked to the woman, the older lady was full of misgivings still about Kendra living in such a crime riddled _city_. The way Kendra had drawled the word had made Max laugh. It sounded very dirty when said that way.

So Kendra had assured Max that she would keep mum about most subjects and hinted that she was aware that Max herself didn't tell her everything and as long as Max wasn't getting into something that could endanger her or anyone else, then she was fine with it. Since they had much different ideas of endangerment, Max had agreed. Promising her friend that she was always careful, in more ways than one. That had been good enough for Kendra and she had gone on preparing for her date night with her new mystery man.

Max was pretty much ready to go for her own night. She was just waiting a little closer to dark, since, as she had told Logan, this proposed hit on a witness in the protection program wouldn't go down until it was dark. And at the same time, being on a schedule would give her an excuse to get off the phone with Sam, if it got to be too much.

She bit and held her lower lip as she pulled up his number and dialed it. Better to just get it over with. She smiled softly when he answered almost immediately, sounding gruff, tired.

"Hey, I hear you called," she greeted.

Hey Max," he returned with a sigh. "And I gotta tell you..."

"Not to happy with what you heard from Kendra?" she questioned gently. Kendra hadn't told her word for word the entire conversation, but enough. She just wasn't sure what Sam would jump on first, since there'd been plenty of ammunition.

"Not even remotely," he chuckled. She frowned. Something sounded off with him, but she wondered at bringing it up. Maybe after she had alleviated his concerns for her, they could play the turn around game.

"Okay," she began, leaning back on her bed with her free hand. "What do you want to hear about first?" She heard muffled words in the back and knowing the boys, they would probably be in the car, headed for another case. She winced slightly, thinking of Dean and then snapped her mouth shut. She hadn't exactly been dream free on the nights she did catch a little shut eye, but she could control her waking moments and the thoughts were resolutely pushed away.

"God, I don't know," Sam groaned. "I mean, yeah, it all sounded pretty bad. But Kendra was also passing on information from Sketchy and we all know how reliable he is. Did you really deliver a finger?"

"Umm, yeah?" she framed it as a question even as she wanted to laugh. That wasn't all that unusual, but she wasn't going to tell him that it wasn't the first time that had happened. It was just the first time she had been in the same room as the recipient opening up a body part. She was quite sure that it had happened before. She heard Sam sigh heavily. "Okay," she began quickly, "yes, Sketch and I delivered a finger. It was from one of Bleed's gang. Kendra said that Sketchy told her about Bleed threatening us. What he said was that we needed to clear out before they took care of their rivals. And to stay out while this went down. Despite what the media reports, these guys are smart."

"They might be smart, but accidents have been known to happen," Sam countered instantly. "Max, I really don't like this, but!" he raised his voice over any protest she was making. "But," he continued when she silenced herself, "I know that you're not going to deliberately walk into a bad situation and yes, I realize that stuff like this happens. So please, just be careful."

"I will," she smiled. "I promise. Now, anything else?"

"What don't I have to worry about with you?" Same teased, making Max laugh softly.

"I could say the same about you," she pointed out. "At least I have the advantage of knowing my territory really well. You guys keep walking into all these different places, not knowing all the little things that might be going down that you could be walking blind in." Her heart and throat clenched spasmodically as the thought became verbal.

"Touche," Sam countered. There was a small pause and then Sam was sighing. "I don't know Max. Why does it seem that every time we talk there's some crap going on?"

"Hey, there are whole days, weeks even, in my life," she began, but when she heard the disgruntled noise he gave, she smirked, but it faded quickly. "You don't mean just me, do you?" And before he could reply, she asked softly, "what's going on Sam? Where are you guys at?"

"Just on our way to another case," he offered instantly, warily and her senses seized upon it.

"What case and where?" she wanted to know.

"It's nothing," Sam immediately protested and Max picked up just as quickly that there was something about the case that was bothering him. She winced slightly, wondering if it was again, like the case with the Warrens, someone that Sam knew. Not wanting to put too much pressure on him if that was the case, Max was hesitant.

"Are you sure?" she asked gently. "I can tell from your voice that it's something. It's not... another friend is it?" she tried to maneuver carefully there and was rewarded with a tired chuckle.

"No, nothing like that," Sam denied. "And if you're hearing anything in my voice, it's lack of sleep." He paused and Max knew what would come next in this defensive dance of hiding things from one another to save each other from the worry.

"Uh huh," she murmured, unconvinced. She knew what Sam sounded like when he was cranky from insomnia and this was nothing like that. There was a tightness in his voice that spoke to a very deeply repressed emotion. She almost wanted to laugh. And indeed, something slipped out. "Sam?" she waited until he gave an indication that he was listening. "Okay, I spent how many years with you guys?" she asked in teasing, but slightly serious tones.

She didn't allow him to answer, since they all knew that. "And pretty close quarters a lot of the time," she went on. "And even if it has been a few years, I still remember. That is not how you sound when you're sleep deprived." And now was decision time. She could hear how his breath had sucked in slightly over the line and was sure that he suspected that she was going to ambush him. But she wasn't. A glance at the lowering sun in the afternoon sky told her that she didn't have time to get into this. And she could always keep this for later. If it happened again. And she was pretty sure, given the natures of their self appointed jobs, it would.

"Max," Sam sighed down the line and she chuckled.

"I get it Sam," she assured him. "I remember the nightmares and the difficulties. And I'm really not surprised that it hadn't been apparent much earlier."

"Yeah," he agreed softly, sounding a little relieved.

"But it's not just that either, is it?" she asked astutely and then Sam was giving her that tired sound that let her know that she was on the right track without having to actually ask. "Don't worry. You don't have to tell me. I've kind of already figured that the case you just finished was pretty rough or the one you're heading to, you're not looking forward to."

"The second one," he confirmed quietly. They were silent for a long moment and then it was Max's turn to sigh.

"Okay, well, I have an appointment tonight I need to get to," she offered with a small moue of distaste. "But if you want to talk, I'll have my cell with me." There was an even longer pause and then Sam cleared his throat.

"This case?" he began softly and it was so quiet, that Max was suddenly glad for her enhanced senses. "It's in Kansas." She waited. "In Lawrence," he admitted and she blanched silently. Her mind rapidly cycled through that information and she frowned. Why would it be affecting Sam so bad? He didn't have the same kind of connection or feelings about the place that John or Dean had. Or was this simply a reaction to how Dean was handling going back to a place that he had sworn never to set foot in? And what was so important about the job that they hadn't simply passed it off to another hunter? Or had Sam insisted that they deal with it? He got that way sometimes. Trying to force people to deal with things in what he considered a healthy, emotionally mature, responsible way.

Didn't always turn out that way.

"Okay," she spoke slowly, considering. "That explains some things. But not everything." She heard Sam sigh once more. "And I am sure that the dissection of all that would probably take longer to hash out than it would to actually deal with this job. Am I right?"

"One hundred percent," Sam laughed and this time, it sounded genuine. She smiled, relieved that she could bring him this small amount of relief. "But we'll be fine," he assured her.

"I know you will," she teased back. "After all, Winchester's are amazingly good at compartmentalizing when they need to."

"That we are," Sam agreed. "What time do you need to get going?"

"Right away, actually," Max noted, glancing at the clock on the microwave. It would take some time to drive over to the address that Logan had provided her with.

"So what is it exactly that you're doing?" Sam wondered and Max rolled her eyes. She was glad that she had thought of the question that was sure to come up in their conversation.

"There's a witness for an upcoming trial," she began her rehearsed story for her brother's benefit. "He's in witness protection right now, but he's having second thoughts about this trial. I'm not sure how he's been threatened or what with. But even if the attorney treats him like a hostile witness, he can't be compelled to actually talk. If he refuses, he'll be hit with jail time for contempt, but the entire case would fall apart because the whole thing is hinging on his testimony. So, we're going in to try and give him some more reasons to go through with this. Maybe remind him that jail isn't the safest place for him either in the long run."

"Woah, wait," Sam's interest perked up immediately. As she knew that it would have. "That's not..."

"Sam!" she spoke sharply. "This isn't some petty little thing..." she began and then had to rein herself in. She was doing this for Theo. For his wife and child. It had to be done, regardless of what Sam thought was right and well within legal bounds. She wouldn't have bothered too much herself with it, but when she had complained to Logan about interfering in this case with the feds, he had told her what the case was. Knowing that it was the dirtbags that had caused Theo's death, she had instantly been on board with rescuing the witness from the hit that was supposed to go down tonight. Not that her brother needed to know that tidbit, hence her rehearsed story.

"He has information on the people that were replacing prescription drugs with placebos" she continued, trying to calm herself. "He hasn't been subpoenaed yet and if he's asked if he has discussed this case prior to the trial, he will naturally say yes, because he has talked. That's why the lawyers want him testifying, because they know he has the info. But he's a flight risk. In a big way. We need to persuade him in, finesse him and the cops and lawyers don't have a good reputation for getting that done."

"Sounds like it's personal," Sam commented after a moment. And Max sighed, sagging a little.

"It is," she confirmed. "It was the stuff that the doctor's had Theo on. That's part of why I..."

"I got it," Sam murmured soothingly, immediately. "Okay, well, good luck with that. Call me when you're done? Or whenever you're free. And don't... worry... if I don't answer right away."

"That's what voice mail is for, right?" she teased, getting back on an even keel as quickly as she could. Sam agreed and they hung up. Max glanced back out the window. Even as far away from the boys as she was, she still knew that this job in their hometown was going to prey a little on her mind. And not for reasons that were good for the well-being of her heart.

Dean glanced over at his younger brother, sitting in the passenger seat. Sam was staring contemplatively out the window, as he had been doing for most of the trip. He was stiff and brooding. A normal sight really, but there was more, much more to it this time. And while Dean was still reeling inside from the revelation of where this job was and the coercion he endured to be forced into handling this, he was more concerned with what this would do to Sam.

His younger brother didn't have the memories or the expectations that he would figure that Dean had. And so, as such, Sam would figure that he would be the rock in this job, there for Dean to lean on.

But Dean knew, he'd deal. He'd handle and divert and compartmentalize, because that was what he did. He was the elder brother, not the other way around. And yes, it was a given that Dean relied on his family to have his back when they went into a job, just as he had theirs. But he already knew what the push buttons on this job were. Those were obvious. The one that had thrown him for a loop was the revelation that Sam had been dreaming these things and apparently, these dreams were coming true. And Dean was smart enough to work out what that meant.

Sam had a two ton mega crap load to deal with, over and above this jaunt back to the old home sweet hell. Whatever problems Dean had were negligible. But he was also smart enough to realize that at some point, Sam would be reaching his breaking point and Dean had the feeling that it was close. And that would be the time that Dean would need to need him. To distract Sam. To give him something to distract him, to help him to hold on, to make it through.

Dean was honest enough with himself to know that he needed that too. And usually, it was Sam needing him that helped him hold it together. And if it wasn't Sam, it was the thought that John was out there somewhere, alone with no one backing him up. Trusting Dad, but... And if that didn't work...

"So you didn't tell her about your... dreams?" he questioned quietly, taking his eyes off the road long enough for another glance at his brother. Sam, not moving from his position, shook his head, the long mop of hair brushing against the window.

"She'd just worry more," Sam sighed. "And she's dealing with enough right now."

"Why?" he asked bluntly. He couldn't imagine that there was anything other than her real family that would upset Max to the point that it would outweigh Sam's... whatever it was he had going on. "What's she doing?"

Sam seemed to be mulling something over, but when he shifted upright a little, Dean held back a verbal offer of relief. Sam was content to talk a little. That would help. "I doubt you ever met him," he began. "I know Max said that Dad had. But her co-worker, Theo?"

The name was not familiar off the top of his head, so Dean shook his head in the negative. Sam pursed his lips, looking upset, but gamely went on. "Theo was Max's mentor of sorts when she first started working at Jam Pony. She's the one that got him and his family the apartment next to her and Kendra's."

"And?" Dean shrugged. "What's going on with them? Anything we should be concerned about?"

"No," Sam answered shortly. "Nothing like that. It's just that Theo got sick again. Something he picked up when he was overseas, in the service."

"What, like malaria?" Dean frowned deeply. That was about the extent of what he could think of along those lines of information. Sam shrugged.

"No one ever said exactly ywhat it was," he explained, gesturing with his hands a little. "Anyway, he was treated for it, but every few years, it would crop up. The last time he got sick? The medication didn't work. He died. Max was devastated. When I saw the news later, I didn't even connect it until Max just said..."

"Said what?" Dean demanded sharply. Something was hurting her. It was a familiar ache raising in his chest, different from when it was Sam or Dad... but very alive and there all the same, even after all this time. He suspected that even until his dying day, he would feel that.

"There was a news report about a pharmaceutical company that had been replacing medication for low income veterans with sugar pills," Sam explained. "They probably wouldn't have caught it, but some doctor was suspicious and performed an autopsy. He found that the drug he had prescribed for the vet wasn't present at all in his system. When his family insisted that he'd been taking the drug, they tested what he had left. They found it to be sugar or something like that. So there was an investigation and a recall on the drugs. Unfortunately, it called into question deaths of other vets that were prescribed this drug. It was all traced back to a pharmaceutical company located just outside of Seattle."

"So what's this all got to do with Max?" Dean wanted to know. He was familiar enough with drug company screw ups. Or product recalls. It was on the news around the country often enough that he'd often see something on television as he flipped through the channels, or articles about it as he browsed through the obituaries. Obviously an intentional screw job on drugs was bad business but some people, some crooks just couldn't help themselves. Blue collar, white collar, it was all crime in the end.

"She's going to talk to a potential witness," Sam supplied. "Try and get this person to come forward willingly instead of having to forcibly subpoena them."

Dean nodded slowly. If Max's friend had been hurt, killed by this deceit, he could very well see her position on this. "And are we suspecting that Cale got her involved somehow?" he questioned astutely. "After all, sounds just like the crap he'd pull her into, doesn't it?"

"I was thinking the same thing," Sam sighed, relaxing back against the car door, his elbow resting at the base of the window, his head on his hand. "I mean, I know that she's said that Cale tries to do good works, but they have professionals for this. Yeah, it's personal for her, if this was what happened with Theo. But I..."

"Sounds iffy, doesn't it?" Dean concurred, his jaw tightening. One of these days, they were gonna load up and haul ass to Seattle and check this guy out in person.

"A little," Sam admitted. "On the whole, it doesn't sound bad. And I think..."

"What?"

"That she volunteered the information just to keep me from asking what she was really doing," Sam sighed, recognizing a gleam of suspicion mixed in with ire in his brother's face. Not like he felt any different.

Dean smirked, the very moment that Sam admitted that. "She did take that lesson to heart, didn't she?"

"The old bait and switch?" Sam scoffed. "Yeah, it's a classic and even more to the point, a family favorite, hmm? Kind of like right now?"

"Don't know what you're talking about Sammy," Dean shook his head lightly and gave an easy going shrug.

"Or like how you call me by that stupid nickname whenever you want to push my buttons so we don't have to discuss what's really bothering you?" Sam suggested archly, but Dean just threw a lazy grin at him.

"Or the classic 'let's dissect Dean's psyche because Sammy isn't ready to deal yet either'?" he tossed out at his brother and knew he'd hit a victory when his brother averted his face with a slight flush effusing his skin.

"Two big words in one sentence," Sam retorted, a glimmer of a grin trying to break free. "Who are you and what did you do with my brother?" he teased, the easy familiarity of it allowing the tension to ease off some.

"It's still me," Dean chuckled, reveling in the simple feeling of it. Pushing the thought of dealing with anything heavier than their usual brotherly back and forth until the next day, he reached out and sneakily ruffled his brother's hair before his hand was smacked away. "I was just saving the big guns, kid."

The eye roll and shake of his head that Sam gave, made Dean feel immensely better. Even if it only lasted until the next sigh and contemplative staring out the window resumed. But these days, Dean would take it.

WiC~WiC~WiC

:Will you please put that damn thing away and go to sleep!" Dean complained as he lay on the top of the bed designated his in yet another rundown motel. They had stopped for the night, since Dean's eyes were getting tired. That was all that he would admit to. They had also noted some headlines at the last gas station, a Mom and Pop store that Dean had wanted to look further into. So far there had been nothing to pop out at them that screamed it was their kind of gig. So Sam had put that research forcibly aside, maintaining that they needed to deal with this Lawrence crap and was looking into some other information. Dean knew that they had to and they'd be gone again at first light. If he could have, Dean would have kept driving, or let Sam drive. But with Sam's lack of sleep the last few weeks, that was just as dangerous as the kid driving drunk.

Sam was about to retort, but glanced at the time on his laptop and blinking rapidly, stretched his arms and back out, before starting to shut down the machine. "Sorry," he mumbled. "It's just interesting, this whole case."

"Which whole case?" Dean grumbled as he tried to get comfortable again, flopping onto his stomach and thrusting his arms under the relatively flat pillow. Fluffing it up slightly, he knew he should have known better than to ask.

"This class action suit against the pharmaceutical company," Sam replied as his fingers moved rhythmically over the keyboard. "I think I've figured out why Max's little story was bothering me."

"Why zat?" Dean mumbled against his bicep as he burrowed himself into comfort.

"Well," Sam began, turning in his seat to face his brother, "it's a class action suit against the company, on behalf of the veteran's and their families that suffered because allegedly sugar pills, or placebo's were sent out instead of the drug."

"I know what placebo's are dumb ass," Dean grunted, turning enough to give his brother an approximation of an evil eye.

"Right," Sam nodded once. "Now, the suit alleges that it wasn't an accident, that it was deliberate. There was noise about a witness that could completely support this case."

"But lemme guess, the guy disappeared," Dean sighed. It was a typical thing, he was sure. Not like he'd never skipped out on something like that. School came to mind immediately, when he could. Sure as hell would never volunteer for jury duty, if they'd ever call him. Sam on the other hand... At least his little brother had curbed that law-abiding tendency some whatly.

"Yeah, the key witness," Sam enthused, packing the laptop into it's protective case. "Because Dean, not only does this guy have the dirt on the deal, the rumor is, is that his testimony implicates the Mayor himself."

"Oh gasp no," Dean snorted. "Not the Mayor. Zoinks, the fate of the world hangs in the balance, Velma. Better crack this case wide open."

"Well, not the fate of the world, no," Sam grinned, even though he knew his brother couldn't see him, shaking his head pitifully as Dean was. "But for Seattle, sure, and this would be justice for all of the victims that suffered by the mistake, if it was a mistake. Because from what I've read, if they can produce this guy, it was deliberate. Apparently the real drug was being sold on the black market and-!"

"Sarcasm Sam!" Dean retorted, a little harshly. "Look it up brainiac."

"I don't believe I need to," Sam replied calmly as he rose from the table. "I'm the one that explained the concept to you. Remember? About a decade ago, and then in high school, and last week...? Why, even this morning-!"

"Shut up and go to bed before I sarcasm your ass out the window," Dean growled. Sam's laughter chased him as he ducked his head under the pillow now to try and recapture the dreams that the incessant clicking of Sam's keyboard had woken him from.

There was quiet for several minutes while Sam gathered his clothes to sleep in and picking up his essentials bag, moved to the bathroom to brush his teeth before he retired. There was the rustle of movement as Sam returned, shutting off the rest of the lights before climbing into his bed and getting comfortable. Dean, his lips twisting slightly began counting down in his head and just as he reached one, Sam piped up once more.

"But you know what I was thinking?" he began as Dean rolled his eyes and didn't answer. "This witness?" he went on. "Okay, so the guy apparently has ties to some bad guy that was taking drugs for veterans, selling it on the black market, doing all sorts of bad things. If he can implicate the Mayor, the city of Seattle is going to see a hell of a scandal break loose. The Mayor can be charged on several varieties of charges and nobody likes a snitch, right?"

Dean was quiet, but that was no deterrent to his brother. "So why is this guy who just doesn't feel like testifying... why isn't he in protective custody? At the very least? He can be compelled to testify. You know what I think?"

"No Sam, I don't," Dean smiled tightly at his brother, trying to rein in his disinterest and irritation. "But I'm sure you'll tell me."

"I think that Max made that stuff up, because something else is going down about this guy," Sam rushed out. "I mean, it makes sense, right? The guy is probably in hiding, not sitting in some motel room enjoying the hell out of his life. He's probably got all the people he betrayed when he let slip the information he has, gunning for him. Plus, if the Mayor truly is corrupt, there's that angle. And I think Max is mixed up in the middle of it."

"You seriously spent three hours putting together what I could have told you after your phone call with her?" Dean gaped at his brother while Sam blinked slowly at him.

"Well, I knew that too," he shrugged and then grinned. "I just wanted a little more information on it before I busted her."

Dean groaned and dropped his head back down. "Why, why couldn't I have been an only child? Why?"

His brother's laughter lasted long enough to turn to soft snores, both of which irritated the hell out of the eldest Winchester offspring. But it was better than having to yap about Max all night. His dreams already tormented him enough. Though not quite as much, as it would turn out, Sam's did.

WiC~WiC~WiC

Dean had waited long enough to make sure that Sam's laptop had a good charge on it. Of course he planned on leaving it plugged in, but the questions Sam had been asking were bothering him too. Of course, everything that this Cale character roped Max into seemed questionable, at least on some level. And while yes, they had to sit back and ostensibly trust her judgment, Dean was quite sure that there would come a day when that man got Max in too deep and she'd need their help. Whether she'd call for it or not... well, Dean just wanted to be prepared.

And in the course of researching the same things Sam had, Dean came to the same conclusions. This whole deal with the trial and the witness that didn't want to testify was extremely fishy. In fact, Dean was willing to bet good money that the feds were trying to protect him and he probably had a number of hits attached to his name. Now, if he could just discern who exactly the witness was, because of course the name was withheld to protect the person, he might be able to figure out just who it was. And why he was so bothered by it all.

He was in the midst of researching back several months through the Seattle headlines, when he noted that Sam was becoming more agitated in his sleep. With a grumbling, half pitying noise, he brought up another browser tab and nimbly, despite his sleepy state, brought up a search engine and typed in a few key search words that would bring a general amount of fruit cake sites. Watching Sam out of the corner of his eye, he switched back to the headlines of Seattle.

Reading between the lines, he could see some of the things that had occurred that Sam told him that Max had been involved in and he wasn't too happy about it. But despite not being there and unable to see for themselves, Dean knew that they had to trust for now that Max was all right. At least they had that. John was a different matter altogether. They had absolutely no information there. So there was that small blessing.

Dean continued to search until his eyes were blurry and crossing occasionally. But on the up side, he had a whole host of names that had bad connections in and around Seattle. Some were marked as currently deceased, which could lend credence to his whole searching for a case, cover story if Sam asked in the morning. Hopefully the little geek wouldn't search himself for the names listed and find the central point of interest. Dean would of course, use the excuse that it was so that Sam could have an excuse to go up to Seattle to legitimately check on their sister should the need arise.

But when he realized that whatever dreams chasing Sam through the night were enough to wake his brother, Dean quietly shut down the browser to do with the Seattle stuff, flipped over to a second sheet of paper in which he'd taken a few notes and busied himself with his search for a new case, this time in earnest.

Sam's quiet panic and desperation were worrisome. Especially more so when he picked up the sketch of what he'd been dreaming of again, to stare morosely at. Their old house in Lawrence, Kansas.

Home.

The one place that he couldn't ever really go to, because it really wasn't there anymore. Not in his heart.

WiC~WiC~WiC

Max sat at the counter in Logan's corner penthouse, wincing occasionally as he applied the antiseptic to her wounds. She could have told him that it was totally unnecessary, but he was persistent in some odd things. It actually, felt kind of nice to have someone watching her back. Though it wasn't precisely the someone she wanted. At least of the several choices that she had, logically and emotionally. Yearning for her family and she wasn't going to be choosy about which family she meant.

The news report about the bomb threat at the courthouse, where they had been earlier, delivering Bruno Anselmo to the trial, regardless of the death threats and hits taken out on him, he had managed to give testimony that implicated the Mayor heavily in several schemes and would most likely bring about a political flurry and scandal the likes of which the city had not seen since the days of prohibition. Max chuckled to herself.

"Well, I'm glad that Bruno chose to do the right thing," Logan sighed moderately. "Even though he paid for it in the end."

Max was saved from answering him by way of her cell phone ringing. She had emptied her pockets of a little bit of her belongings, since she'd had a little of the cash left from what Logan had provided her with to take care of Bruno. Which was only after the safe house he had set up for them had been compromised by Bruno's stupidity. She was considering offering it back to him, but really, she could use the money. She could always use money.

She swiped up her cell phone and saw that it was Sam. With a small eye roll, but seeing no reason not to answer, she did so.

"Hey Sam," she greeted cheerily. "What's up?"

"Bruno Anselmo," was her brother's tired reply. Max winced again, partly from Logan pressing a little too much at one of the scrapes and part from Sam sticking his persistent nose in again.

"Aaaa-nd, what about him?" Max wondered aloud with a drawl. She heard her brother's sigh.

"He was the witness you were going to talk to, wasn't he?" Sam demanded. "Max, were you at the courthouse... when he?"

"Got ganked?" she supplied for him and heard his strangled gasp. "I was in the area, but I wasn't there."

"Okay," her brother sighed after a moment. And then let out a small laugh. "You can imagine what's been going through our minds. Dean figured... he had a list, you know?"

"A list?" she asked, her brows pulling together as she tried to extemporize what he might be talking about.

"Of all the possible witnesses," Sam explained, leadingly. "Anselmo was right at the top of the list. Of course, we were wondering when you said you were going to talk to a witness, because this case..."

"My case or your case?" Max bit at her lip and glanced over her shoulder at Logan, who had pulled back from applying butterfly bandages to her wound to blatantly listen in to her conversation. "Sam, you're not making total sense here. What's bothering you?"

"Several things," he scoffed. "Anselmo was the witness you went to talk to?"

"Yes, he was," she confirmed, thinking quickly how to spin it all.

"And this guy was majorly bad," Sam went on. "Just the allegations, let alone the convictions this guy has had..."

"Which was why he had the hit out on him," she agreed, "which was why I wasn't there. Believe me, I did not want to be around that scumbag any more than I had to."

"But you still went to see him," Sam pressed.

"I did," she agreed, not being able to hide that fact that she had already told him herself. "He needed a reason to testify," she explained quickly, thinking of what she had been about to say to Logan. "Look, Bruno knew he was a dirt bag. He made no apologies for that. But he loved his daughter. He told me, when I talked to him about it, that he wanted for his kid to be able to have one example at least, where he did the right thing. He wanted to be worthy of her love and trust. Regardless of what it cost him. So he went ahead and testified."

"And took a bullet in the gut for it," Sam spoke quietly. "That's..."

"The price he paid for his crimes," Max broke in. "It might not have been the right thing or justice, but given what he was, his outlook on life, I think he'd been heading there all along. But now, his daughter knows he knew right from wrong, the people responsible for these crimes won't get away with it and there will be justice for others," she supplied. She heard Logan chuckle behind her and she shifted in her seat to frown at him. Sure, she was sorta channeling him and his blah blah, woof woof, but sometimes that was the sort of stuff that Sam ate up.

"Okay," Sam finally accepted. "Just as long as you're okay and not mixed up in this anymore."

"Not at all," Max grinned. "I've got other things to worry about."

"Like what?" Sam demanded with a small chuckle.

"Oh, just my balance, among other things," Max teased and then grunted as Logan went back to patching her up. "I slipped getting into Logan's car this afternoon and scraped my shoulder up."

"Ow," Sam sympathized, though he certainly wasn't broken up about it. "So aside from talking to Anselmo, has anything else been going on?"

"Nothing worth note," Max sighed and had to frown at Logan's disagreeing grunt. He poked at her back and she spun slightly, slapping at his finger.

"What was that?" Sam wondered, his voice full of suspicion.

"Argh," Max groaned. "Logan was putting a bandage on that scrape I mentioned and he poked it by accident!" She glared at the man before her, using a few fingertips to cover the phone. "Do you mind. I'm trying to convince my brother that I'm fine and it doesn't seem to work if I'm screaming in pain."

"I understand that Max," Logan smirked. "I lie to my family about what I get up to, all the time."

"I told you Logan," she began with a sigh, but the squawk in her ear from her brother made her grunt and spin around. "Sam, I'm fine, everything is fine, nothing has been going on for you to worry about. It's just a scrape and I would be even more fine if Logan would quit trying to douse it with iodine!"

Logan's laughter seemed to transmit through the phone to Sam, as her brother asked, "is he really?"

"No Sam," Logan called out loudly. "I used hydrogen peroxide, antibiotic cream and some bandages. She's just being a baby."

"I know the feeling," Sam laughed. "Who do you think has to patch up Dean these days?"

"Oh you mean he isn't pulling the 'every thing's all good, I always limp because my knee twists backwards naturally and my ribs are fine, that protrusion just means I'm hungry. Bring on the burgers and pie and don't forget the onions!' routine?" she teased loudly. Both the males, behind her and on the phone were laughing.

"Exactly," Sam guffawed and she could swear she could see in her mind Sam laughing and pointing at his brother while Dean did something inconsequential like clean his gun or watch television, completely mystified about why he was being laughed at, but his mind already whirling about how to turn the attack around. The pang that hit her in the gut was more intense than the earlier admittance she had felt and she had to blink quickly to rid her eyes of the tears rapidly forming. With a frown, she latched on to Sam's statement about patching his brother up.

"Okay, whoa," she muttered. "What exactly have you and Dean been doing, that he needed patching up?" she wanted to know. "And where are you guys?"

"Uh," Sam hesitated and Max pursed her lips. Busted! "At the motel," he tried gamely.

"In what city?" she asked in precise measures. Now it was Sam's turn to wince.

"We're uh, we're actually in Kansas City right now," he told her with a cheer that was as false as Normal's sense of goodwill to his employees.

"And where were you right before Kansas City?" Max wanted to know, holding herself still. She knew her American geography better than most teens and adults that lived in the country, mostly because of her memory retention and from the fact of driving all over America for nearly a decade with John and the boys. She heard Dean in the background.

"Just tell her Sammy," his brother was prompting. "It wasn't that big a deal."

There was a hesitation and finally Sam admitted it. "We were in Lawrence. At the old house. But Dean's right. It wasn't..."

"You boys wouldn't be telling me it wasn't a big deal if it wasn't a big deal," Max snarked. "I can think off the top of my head three good reasons, separate and distinct for all of you why it would be a big deal. Want me to start listing them?" she didn't realize that her voice had risen, even as she did come up off the stool. They had been dealing with something supernatural at their old house? Oh lord...

Before her brother could speak, she was changing her mind. "Look Sam, I'm at Logan's right now. Why don't we finish this later?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that'd be fine," Sam agreed. Both seeming a little startled, they didn't bother with their goodbyes and both hung up. With a slightly shuddering breath, Max settled the phone gently on the counter, as if it were the only breakable thing in her sphere. That was patently untrue, but her fears, for herself, for her family, were shatteringly close this day. She landed on the stool she'd been sitting on more than sat. It was only a moment, feeling Logan's eyes boring into her back before he spoke again.

"You didn't tell your brothers?" he asked gently, hesitantly.

"Nothing to tell," she grunted, regardless of whether he was talking about being at the courthouse or the unknown welcoming committee that Logan had saved her in the parking garage from. The one that Bruno Anselmos, still a dirt bag to the last, had sold out her secret to.

"Well they got you pretty good," he muttered as he applied something more to the slightly scorched skin that resulted from a tazer burn. He must be referring to the 'no pain' guys then.

"I need to get my ass kicked once in a while," she retorted flippantly. "Just to keep me real," she added. Though how in the hell they had managed it was a mystery that had been preying on part of her mind since Bruno's admission that they had been looking for her and that he had led her right to them. What they wanted, what they were capable of. It wasn't something she'd let go. She knew she shouldn't dwell on her weaknesses. But in this world of ordinary people that ignored the truths around them, she had let her defenses drop. And it would get her killed. She heard Logan sigh.

"These guys aren't going to go away," he reminded her.

"Kinda pesky like that," she scoffed, as her skin puckered over in goose bumps. Almost, she could believe, that it was in response to the cold fluid he was swiping over her skin. But she knew better.

"Max..." he began, whatever logic he was calling upon unnecessary at this juncture.

She turned her head slightly, her lips trembling now too. "You don't have to tell me to be afraid. I'm already there."

WiC~WiC~WiC

"What'd she say?" Dean asked tiredly from his position, hunched over Sam's computer. He was engaged already in another search, thinking he might have a lead.

"We'll talk again later," Sam replied tiredly, tossing the phone down to the table. "She's over at Cale's, she wasn't at the courthouse, and she certainly doesn't think being in Lawrence was no big deal."

Dean, having meant what he had said, that it wasn't a big deal, meant that in a certain way. In other ways it was huge, but there was nothing that Max or their father or anyone, even themselves could do about it. Taking what Missouri Mosley had said about it, the spirit of their mother had used up whatever ghostly spirit energy she had to destroy that poltergeist. In Dean's mind, if things had to be that way, then what better way to go all the way out, than taking out some evil son of a bitch. They'd deal whichever way they could. And all the better that Sam have his emo conversation with Max, than with him as he'd been trying off and on halfheartedly since they'd left Lawrence. And before his brother could say anything, Dean spun the computer around to show his brother the headlines he'd been looking at.

Looks like he'd just found their next case.

WiC~WiC~WiC

"Come on Max!" Sam grunted, gripping the cell phone tighter than usual. "Pick up!"

He'd already talked to Cindy to find out the startling development that Kendra had moved out several weeks back, shacking up with a divorced cop and that Cindy, having a run of bad luck was evicted from her apartment for reasons she wouldn't speak of and was in the process of moving in with Max. Hence why she was answering the phone at the apartment. She had informed Sam that Max had gone to Logan's for dinner that evening, but Sam hadn't really wanted to talk to the man. Social pleasantries aside, he still didn't really like the guy.

But since his sister wouldn't answer her cell phone, there seemed little choice. He knew Dean would kill him for calling her. Just as he knew that Max would kill him for not calling about this. Shutting the incessant ringing off for the moment, Sam glared at the antiseptic scented corridors of the hospital, reliving for just a moment, the nightmare of getting Dean to the hospital, the tests, the doctor's declaration and Dean... Dean just accepting it.

Well, he might be talking a big game, but Sam knew how he would feel in his brother's shoes and there was no way in hell he was going to just sit back and let things unfold as the doctor had predicted. Squaring his shoulders, Sam brought up his telephone number directory and found Logan Cale's home phone number, pressing his thumb against the button before he changed his mind and tried her cell once more.

The man answered immediately. "Hello?" he asked, sounding slightly winded.

"Logan?" Sam asked, "this is Sam. Max's brother," he prompted, though he didn't think it quite necessary.

"Sam?" Logan sounded puzzled. "Is everything all right?"

"Um, no not really," Sam grunted. From the hints that Cindy had been dropping about Max's evening plans, Sam was sure that interruptions would not be welcome, but this situation was beyond that. "I need to talk to Max. I tried her cell but-!"

"She's not here," Logan interrupted. "Sorry. Her broth- sorry, her other brother Zack called. He needed help with something, so she left, a while ago now."

"Zack!" Sam's eyes went wide. Well, there was another piece of news, a good piece, but that certainly didn't help him. Last they had heard, Zack's flight had gone down over some mountains and there had been no survivors listed. Max had insisted that she was sure Zack was well, and now it seemed as if her hunch had paid off. Too bad she couldn't simply say the same about Dean and have it be true. That cool reminder made him shake off the momentary wonder about Max's other family. "Look, something has happened here and I need to talk to Max as soon as possible. If you hear from her, could you please, please tell her to call me immediately?"

"Of course," Logan promised, curiosity coloring his voice. There was some hesitation before he asked, "is everything... Is there anything I can do?"

'Give me the name of something that will save my brother from the electrocution he received, saving kids from a monster,' was his immediate thought, but Sam quelled that immediately. Logan was completely in the dark about the supernatural, he knew that. And the situation would take too long to explain and he had more calls to make. "No, but thank you," he offered automatically. "Please, just let Max know."

"Of course," Logan repeated. "Take care Sam."

"You too," Sam murmured before pulling the phone away to hang up. He was already punching in the next number on his mental list.

WiC~WiC~WiC

"So what'd ya get for me?" Dean asked as Sam re-entered the hospital room. He had been checking in on his brother in between frantic phone calls that evening. And when the nurse on duty had confirmed for Dean that he was not required to eat specifically within the dietary parameters that hospital guidelines supplied their cafeteria with, had sent Sam to get him a burger. Sam, treading the line between wanting his brother to do everything possible to care for himself and yet indulge his hurt brother, had given in.

"Burger with the works, fries and a shake," he sighed as he moved all the way into the room, laying the bag containing Dean's meal on his brother's lap gently, almost as if any touch would damage him further.

"Excellent," Dean clapped his hands then rubbed them together. The television and remote were forgotten for the moment as he reached for the bag. Sam set the shake on the night table beside the bed and reached for the rolling table as Dean was already unwrapping the burger. "Did you remember my pie?"

"Yeah Dean," he rolled his eyes. "There's cherry and apple, your choice."

"Both!" was the answer and he couldn't help but chuckle. He positioned the table over his brother and snagged the bag back over his brother's pained squawk, replacing it on the table so his brother could reach it, before he turned to his own meal. He seated himself in the solid chair, uncomfortable as usual. Reaching into his bag that had a very similar meal to his brother's, he glanced up at the television mounted in the corner that had been muted for the moment, at his return.

"Good thing I got a couple of each then," Sam retorted, well aware of his brother's dietary abuse. "What are we watching?"

"Whatever was on," Dean shrugged and reached with his free hand for the remote once more. "Stupid channel list is all messed up," he grumbled as he ate.

"Well, there's always the discovery channel," Sam teased, though it was only half-hearted, though the annoyed glare his brother gave him wasn't. He pretended interest in his own meal as Dean continued to desultorily surf through the channels, trying to find something interesting. Unfortunately, just as he settled on an old rerun of Bewitched, the television seemed to lose it's signal.

"Oh for cryin' out loud!" Dean mumbled, picking up the remote once more. The screen cleared once more as static was heard and then, instead of the programmed show, there was a strange image and Sam sucked in a startled breath, choking slightly on his bite of food.

"Do not attempt to adjust your set," a voice announced from the television. "This is a streaming freedom video bulletin."

"What the hell?" Dean demanded, though whether of the television or his brother was unclear.

"This cable hack cannot be traced and it cannot be stopped and it is the only free voice left in this city," the voice continued. Sam grabbed for his drink and took in several gulps to stem a coughing fit. "This is a message to those known as X5. You've been compromised. You're in danger. You know what to do."

"What is this garbage?" Dean grunted, flipping the channel to find that it was the same on each station, his eyes going wide.

"Eyes only," Sam coughed out. Speaking so soon didn't help and he gently patted at his sternum with the heel of his hand.

"... peat, you've been compromised," the voice continued. "You know what to do."

"That cable hack program that comes out of Seattle," Sam explained, once his throat was clear. "Max and her friends watch it. But it's never..."

"This message will repeat every hour, on the hour, until each of you has checked in," the voice announced and then with another brief flare of static, the hack was gone and whatever it was that Dean had flipped to had returned. He cautiously backtracked to "Bewitched" to see Darrin speaking to Samantha. Dean quickly muted it and turned to his brother.

"Damn!" he grinned. "That guy just hacked every freakin' channel!" his voice was full of amused awe. Trust Dean to be impressed with a feat like that, though when one thought about it, it was a pretty amazing trick. Of course, Sam would be more impressed if the guy managed to slip through and do it again as the voice had promised... every hour...

"Looks like it," Sam agreed with a nod. He took another sip of his drink, watching the cogs in his brother's head whirring. "And I have no clue how he'd even go about doing that."

"Probably hijacked a satellite or something," Dean grinned, his eyes glowing with the sneaky appreciation for the stunt that had just been pulled off. "FCC is probably pissed as hell."

"Probably," Sam agreed, to both or either. He really did have other more important things to think about. Namely, how to save his brother.

"And man, whoever these X... what were they?" he muttered. "Ah X5's? What the hell is up with that? Must be..." Dean trailed off as he realized that his brother wasn't paying attention at all. He shook his head and turned back to his food. And television. Whoever these X5's were that got a small time cable show to pull off a national prank like hacking the countries' television stations, they must be some major players in something. And Sam had said that Eyes Only, this guy was out of Seattle. Or at least people believed so, since that was were it must be normally broadcast.

Many things were whirling through Dean's mind. This puzzle was just a welcome diversion from it all. But one thing he really wondered, all that he would allow himself to think on now, "what the hell is an X5?" he murmured to himself.


End file.
